The cost of time travel
by thesharminator
Summary: In most time travel/redo fics, the characters come from an apocalyptic future. I've always wanted to see one where the character actually loses something by going back, how would they deal with the grief? Ron finds out.
1. Chapter 1

**I own none of these characters, I am making no money off them.**

**Author's Notes:** Been a while since I posted on this site, sorry:( This is a story I've wanted to write for some time. In most time travel/redo fics, the characters come from an apocalyptic future where the world has gone to hell. I've always wanted to write one where the character actually lost something by going back, how would they deal with the grief?

**General question for readers:** (Those who read Buffy fanfiction anyway) Why is Xander such a popular fanfiction character while Ron is relatively despised? I'm genuinely curious, they've always seemed very similar to me. Apart from Crowe's "Mein Teil" I haven't come across any Ron centric time travel fics.

Chapter 1

Dumbledore's head bobbed forward, sleep attempting to claim him once again. He roused himself, there was still much to do before he could retire for the night. This term was turning out to be far more trying than he had expected. He had known the Triwizard Cup would take a significant amount of time and effort to organize, however it seemed like every minute brought a new emergency.

Parents complaining about Moody's teaching style, the centaurs complaining about humans trespassing in their forest, the other headmasters complaining about Harry's participation in the tournament. Dumbledore sighed, that was most definitely his greatest source of concern at the moment.

There was little doubt that someone had gone to considerable effort to get Harry to participate, but why? True, the challenges were dangerous, but there were dozens of medi-witches and wizards on hand. With the number of precautions being taken, the tournament should not have been more dangerous than a Griffindor-Slytherin quidditch match. If the goal were to kill Harry then the tournament was a poor way of doing so.

Perhaps the mystery person who had entered Harry's name wanted to humiliate and isolate the boy. Perhaps pushing him to be swayed by darker influences. Dumbledore shook his head, that was not likely. While Harry did seem unhappy since his entry, there was no chance of it turning him to the dark ways. Dumbledore knew that Harry's character was stronger than that.

Still it troubled him to see Harry so alone. The boy relied on the bonds of friendship he had formed with Hermione and Ronald. The severing of one of those legs of support was most definitely taking a toll on him. From what Dumbledore had gathered, the rift had arisen due to Ronald's insecurities. While understandable, jealousy could be very dangerous and cause problems if left unresolved.

How easy had it been for Voldemort to play on Peter's fears and insecurities, turning him from a friend into a devoted spy? Dumbledore chased the thought away, Ronald Weasley was no Peter Pettigrew.

Nevertheless, if Voldemort returned and Ronald followed Harry into the fight. A rift brought out by the stress and fear of the war could be devastating. Dumbledore smiled, the Weasley's were a fiery bunch, a personality trait inherited from their mother. Ron may be angry now, but he was loyal. Dumbledore knew it was only a matter of time before the boys made up.

A chiming filled the office, startling Dumbledore from his thoughts. Curious about who would come to see him at nearly one in the morning, he tapped his wand on the desk. A ghostly image of Ronald standing in front of the office gargoyle appeared. 'What a coincidence,' thought the headmaster. Ronald was wearing his nightclothes and shuffling from foot to foot. He looked very nervous.

Dumbledore flicked his hand, releasing the statue. As the ghostly imaged of Ron faded, Dumbledore saw him sprint past the gargoyle before it had even stopped moving. Dumbledore put his wand away and steepled his fingers, waiting for the boy.

Ron burst through the office door , but froze when he saw the headmaster sitting at his desk. His eyes were wide, his face pale. "Bloody hell, you're really alive."

Not quite sure what to make of the strange greeting, Dumbledore smiled and nodded, "Indeed, and I am glad to see the same applies to you. May I ask why you are out after curfew."

Ron ignored the question. Instead he shook his head and began pacing. "This can't be real, this doesn't make any sense. First Harry now you." Dumbledore tensed at the mention of Harry, but also at Ron's behaviour. He was clearly very agitated.

With a thought, Dumbledore filled the office with a simple calming charm. Ron's pacing slowed and he stopped talking to himself. When the boy was sufficiently calm, Dumbledore asked, "What is the matter Mr Weasley?"

Ron turned to face Dumbledore, he appeared to be in shock. When he spoke it was as though he couldn't believe his own words. "I think I'm in the bloody past."

Dumbledore felt a pang of disappointment. Of all the students at Hogwarts, Ron was one of the few who knew better than to play with a time turner. For that matter, where had the boy even found one? The only authorized time turner on the grounds was in the hands of a sixth year Ravenclaw. Still, the surprise he had expressed at seeing Dumbledore alive was of greater concern, almost as much as the mention of Harry. Time turners were tricky little devices, actually changing anything that happened was nearly impossible. Dumbledore's mind began running through many different scenarios. Had someone attacked Harry in the near future, causing Ron to travel back? If time travel was involved the situation would need to be handled very carefully. However, first things first. "Do you know where the other Ronald Weasley is?"

Ron stared at Dumbledore, confused. "What do you mean? What other Ron?"

That did not make sense. Ron was behaving very erratically. Perhaps rather than time travel, he had run afoul of some form of Confundus curse? In a soothing tone Dumbledore asked, "Why do you believe you are in the past?"

"Look at me!" Ron exclaimed. Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow and Ron continued, "Right, sorry. You think I supposed to be like this." He shook his head, "Merlin this is confusing. Ten minutes ago I was thirty four years old, not thirteen!"

Dumbledore relaxed, a small smile returning to his face. A Confundus curse was sounding more and more plausible. Travelling twenty years back in time had been proven to be arithmetically impossible. Madame Pomfrey would have Ronald's mind mended in a couple of days. In a calming tone that one would use around a frightened animal Dumbledore said, "I believe you are actually fourteen years of age Ronald."

Ron sighed, "You don't believe me." He appeared exhausted. "I'll prove it to you, but can you give us some privacy?"

Dumbledore hesitated, uncertain. Even though the story was ludicrous, Ron obviously believed it. Dumbledore had to admit that Ron looked different. There was a tightness around the eyes, and a jumpiness about him that reminded the headmaster more of Harry than of the Weasleys' youngest son.

Dumbledore took out his wand and quickly cast a series of privacy spells. To anyone looking into the office it would appear empty. Even the portraits would be unable to tell what was being discussed. "How can you be certain that you are in the past?"

Ron nodded and took a bracing breath. "What year am I in? Has Riddle come back yet?"

Dumbledore showed no emotional reaction to the mention of Voldemort. "It is your fourth year, and as far as I am aware Voldemort is still in Albania without a true body."

Ron closed his eyes and seemed to be searching his memory, "This is the year Harry was in the Triwizard competition, right?" Dumbledore nodded and Ron continued, "He's not back yet." Realization spread across Ron's face. "Bloody hell." He let out a breath and stared at Dumbledore incredulously. "We can keep him from coming back."

There was no doubt that Ron believed what he was saying, unfortunately that didn't make it true. "Slow down Ronald, you have yet to give me any proof of your claim."

Ron nodded, "Yeah, yeah sorry." He was practically bouncing in excitement. "There's a prophecy that says neither can live while the other survives. Riddle has a bunch of Horcruxes keeping him alive. What else?" Ron trailed off for a moment, "Oh, Snape's in love with Lily Potter, that's why he became a spy." Again Ron paused before adding, "Your took the Elder wand from Grindelwald."

Dumbledore felt off balance, it wasn't often that he was truly taken by surprise. The last part of the prophecy was a closely guarded secret, not even Snape knew the complete version. Most important, however was the knowledge of the Horcruxes. Dumbledore had long suspected they were the key to Voldemort's pseudo immortality. However, he had not found a way of determining how many existed, or what objects had been used to create them.

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. "Tell me everything."

Ron shrunk back from the sudden intensity of Dumbledore's gaze. He hesitated, "Where should I start?"

Dumbledore desperately wanted to know about the Horcruxes, but he realized he needed to understand what Ronald was doing here. "Do you know how you arrived in this time."

Ron shrugged, "Sort of. We were on a mission for the order." He paused, "Well, Hermione was on a mission, I tagged along because I couldn't just sit around with her out there." Ron shook his head, "No let me back up a bit."

"Riddle won." Dumbledore's stomach dropped but Ron continued. "Harry let Riddle kill him in order to destroy the Horcrux inside him. After that, Riddle came to slaughter the school. During the fight his last Horcrux, Nagini, was killed by Neville, but it didn't help. Harry's sacrifice protected us from Riddle's magic, but not from the Death Eaters'." Ron shuddered, "They tore us apart. Some of us died, some of us surrendered, and some of us ran off." There was a pause as Ron collected his thoughts, "We tried fighting him, but even without his immortality Riddle had control of Britain. The magical parts anyway."

"We did what we could. We smuggled the muggle-born out of the country, we took out Death Eaters, but it was a losing battle. A little after I turned twenty five Hermione and I had to leave. We..." Ron cut himself off, changing his mind about what he was going to say. Dumbledore was familiar enough with grief to recognize its shadow flit across Ron's face. He wondered what could have happened that was bad enough to haunt the man for almost a decade.

"We moved to France to be near Bill and Fleur." Some of the tension in Ron's face eased. "We were actually able to start a family. We have a daughter," he smiled, "named her Harriet." The grief that had been on Ron's face a moment ago faded, replaced with a softness. "She's as bright as her mum. Been reading since she was four." His smile faded. "Mione's been working as a curse breaker, apprenticed under Bill. That's why the Order needed her. Only reason they let me tag along on the mission was because I'm an EMW (emergency medi-wizard). All that first aid we learned in the war ended up being dead useful."

He sighed, "About a month ago we got a message from George. He said Riddle was planning something and they needed Hermione's help. I tried to keep her from going, but you know Hermione, can't keep her out of a fight. We left Harry with Fleur and headed back to England."

"Turned out that without his Horcruxes, Riddle was ageing fast." Ron laughed, "He didn't look much better off than a dementor. The Order didn't know what he was up to, only that he hadn't left the Death room at the ministry for months. He kept having people brought in, no one was leaving."

Ron's face became very grave, "We got in without setting off any alarms. A few ministry workers saw us, but they didn't put up much of a fight. Even the people who supported Riddle were scared of what he was doing. Hermione made it through the wards really quickly. The room was full of bodies." Ron shuddered, "I've never seen anything like it. There were hundreds of them, maybe thousands. If he wasn't already insane I would have thought Riddle had gone mad. The archway was covered in markings. I think they were painted in blood. Riddle was standing in front of it chanting. There was a whip of flame coming out of his wand, it looked like he was hitting the veil. It sounded," Ron shuddered again, his face paling at the memory, "It sounded like they were screaming." Ron didn't need to clarify whom he had heard. Those who had witnessed death could hear their whispers when standing near the veil, though to hear them scream... Dumbledore suppressed a shudder of his own. "He didn't even turn to face us, he just started chanting faster."

"There were a six Death Eaters there, and four of us. While we were fighting, Riddle finished his spell. The blast took us all off our feet, even Riddle. When I got up I saw him crawling towards the veil. Hermione screamed that we couldn't let him go through the curtain. I was closest, I managed to tackled him. We rolled down the steps away from the archway."

Ron shook his head. "I've never seen anyone that desperate. He couldn't have weighted more than seven stone, but he was bloody vicious." Ron absently rubbed his hand against his left eye. "He jabbed one of this fingers in my eye but I managed to kick him off me and stand up. I didn't see it coming." Ron paused, "I think it was Bellatrix. I was hit in the chest with some kind of bludgeoning hex. It threw me into one of the pillars of the archway. I was losing consciousness, but I think I fell through."

"Next thing I knew I was in the dorm, Harry was in the bed next to me, alive." Ron gave a short laugh, "He looked at me like I was barmy when I shook him awake and hugged him."

Dumbledore watched Ron gravely. He knew a significant amount about the theory behind time travel. The ritual Ron described was foreign to him, and the gateway was poorly understood at best. Though a theory was forming.

From his research into the Deathly Hallows Dumbledore knew that time could move at a different rate for the dead. Had Voldemort managed to warp and pervert even the ancient magic of the veil in a mad attempt to turn back the clock and stay alive? Even as Dumbledore contemplated the idea he could see its terrible potential. Killing person after person and using runes to tie their souls to the veil like mules. Using words and wand to drive them away. Dragging the gateway with them as they fled from him, not though space, but through time. As distasteful as that magic was, Dumbledore knew that he would have to examine Ronald's memory in a pensive to confirm his theory.

"I believe your actions may have saved more lives than you realize." And cost you more, Dumbledore added silently. While the thought of Tom making his way back in time was terrifying, Dumbledore wondered if Ron realized what he had lost in the process of preventing it.

"Won't Riddle just follow me?" Ron was suddenly tense and alert, "Putain," he swore in French, "we've been wasting time, we need to get to the Horcruxes before he can move them!"

Dumbledore raised his hand to stop Ron. "I do not believe we are in danger of Voldemort following you here."

"Why? How can you know? He wasn't more than ten feet from the curtain when I fell through."

With a heavy heart Dumbledore spoke, "While I cannot be certain, I believe that the moment you passed through the gateway and arrived here, the future you came from ceased to exist. Voldemort cannot follow because those events have not, and may never come to pass."

Ron understood the consequences very quickly. "Harry." The word was little more than a whisper.

When Dumbledore spoke it was with nothing but compassion, "I am sorry Ron, I do not believe the life you had with Hermione exists anymore."

Ron shook his head faintly, "No."

Dumbledore stood and made his way around the desk to the lost time traveller. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry Ronald, I wish I had some other answer for you."

Ron didn't cry, not right away. Instead he seized on Dumbledore's wording, "You said you didn't think, does that mean you're not certain?" He clung to that small hope, a ledge that kept him from falling into an abyss.

"I am sorry, two time lines cannot exist on top of one another. Time turners may bend this rule, but they do not break it. The universe mends the paradoxes by only allowing one reality to exist." Dumbledore could see that Ron did not understand and simplified, "Do you recall being possessed by your future self in your fourth year?" Ron shook his head. "Then I am afraid it is highly unlikely you made this journey to the past in your time-line. The universe cannot make sense of two times; by travelling backward, the future has, in effect, become unwritten."

Ron began to panic, "What if you Obliviate me? Couldn't that make everything work out like it did with Harriett and Hermione?"

Dumbledore sighed, he could be manipulative at times, however he did not like to play god. "How many people will die in the coming years due to Voldemort's return? Can you truly ask me to sacrifice them for your daughter's life."

Ron looked like he had been punched in the gut. "You're a right bastard. You know that?" he whispered.

Dumbledore nodded, "I have been called that and worse. I am truly sorry Ronald. There are times that we must make the choice between what is right and what is easy."

Ron laughed, the crack in his voice hurt Dumbledore's ears like nails on a chalkboard. "Says the man who got himself killed trying to talk to his dead sister."

Dumbledore could not meet Ron's glare. The jab had struck an ever present wound the old man carried. What foolish thing had he done in Ron's past in a quest to seek Ariana's forgiveness? Instead of defending himself Dumbledore replied, "It is far simpler to ask someone to make a sacrifice than to do it oneself." His voice was soft.

Ron looked at him with blank disbelief. Without saying a word he turned on his heel and marched to the window. His entire demeanour was rigid, contained. He rested his palms on the sill, head bowed. Dumbledore could just make out the tremors as the boy's shoulders began to shake. Dumbledore resisted the urge to approach and offer comfort.

After a moment of tense silence Ron collected himself. It appeared as though he was about to turn back to Dumbledore. In a sudden explosion of violence, he struck the window repeatedly with his balled fist. On the fourth strike he managed to knock out one of the shattered pains from its lead lining. Seemingly satisfied by the destruction he pulled his hand out of the broken glass. He turned to face the headmaster, ignoring the damage. His eyes were tear stained but also manic.

"We make a deal. I help you fight Voldemort, you find a way of getting my wife and daughter back."

"Ronald, you know that I cannot promise..."

Ron cut him off. "No. That's the deal. I give you my information, you give me my family."

While Dumbledore was not above lying for the greater good, he would not stoop to that here. "I can only promise that I will try. However I must be completely clear, I do not believe it is possible to retrieve your daughter or your wife from a future that will never exist."

Ron ran his uninjured hand through his hair. He seemed quite defeated as he said, "I can't really ask for anything more." He nodded towards Dumbledore's desk, "Let's get to work. There are things we need to do before tomorrow."

"I shall call Poppy to look at you hand." Dumbledore said, glancing at Ronald's arm as it dripped blood onto the stone floor.

"Don't wake her, medi-wizard, remember?" He took his wand out and quickly performed three spells, one to numb the pain, a second to pull out the glass, and a third to close the wounds. The injuries weren't healed, but the spell was holding the edges together more effectively than muggle stitches. It would heal in a fraction of the time. Dumbledore went back to his chair and Ron sat across from him. "I could use a couple of pepper ups and some fire whiskey. Feels like I haven't slept in days." Dumbledore nodded and rang a house elf to bring Ron the stimulant and relaxant. They had much to discuss before either could sleep.


	2. Flanders Fields

**As usual, I own nothing.**

**Note1:**Thanks to those who reviewed, I'm hoping you enjoy this instalment even if you don't like Ron:) There will be some violence in this chapter, it's about as bad as it will get in this story, but my beta Caitlin seems to think its not too bad.

**Note 2:**Flanders Fields is a poem written by a Canadian poet in WWI. In my opinion it embodies what kept Ron and Hermione in the fight for seven years.

**Chapter 2:To you from failing hands we throw the torch.**

When Ron left Dumbledore's office it was after three in the morning. He had told the headmaster everything he knew about the Horcruxes. He also explained about Mad Eye being impersonated by Crouch. It had been a difficult decision to leave the impostor in place, however it was necessary. The only Horcrux whose location was unknown was Nagini. The only place Ron was certain he could find the snake was at Tom Riddle Sr.'s grave on the night of the final challenge.

If they could gather the other Horcruxes by then, only Nagini and Harry would be left. Dumbledore was going to research ways of removing the soul fragment from Harry without killing him, but Ron wondered if such a thing was even possible. If it were, surely Dumbledore would have done so the first time.

He hated that they had to walk this knife's edge. That they couldn't kill Crouch, wipe out the Horcruxes and be done with it. They weren't that lucky. If Voldemort suspected his loyal servant was compromised, he may go to ground and hide Nagini. If Crouch suspected anything, he may alert Voldemort and their advantage would be lost. All Ron had to do was last six months as a fourth year and not get discovered. Then Dumbledore would help him get his family back.

Ron had a feeling that the hardest part of the plan was going to be pretending that he was only fourteen. He had never been a good actor, and didn't know how he was going to pull it off.

As he made his way up the stairs of the Griffindor tower he accidentally stepped into the false step. It took him few minutes to pull himself out of the gap. How many of the castle's quirks had he forgotten over the years?

While Dumbledore could not help him with those details, he had provided Ron with a copy of his class schedule and the password to the Fat Lady's portrait. "Balderdash," he whispered to the sleeping lady. The portrait swung open, allowing him entry.

The Griffindor common room produced a bitter sense of nostalgia. He hadn't bothered to take in the decor when he first woke in this younger body. The last time he had been here was nearly twenty years ago, some time during sixth year, if he remembered correctly. That was right before things had really gone to hell.

When he had woken in this time it had taken a few minutes to realize that he wasn't in a hospital bed. It was pure chance that it was Harry's bunk he had peeked into while trying to find out where he was.

At first he blamed a concussion for the similarities between the boy in the bunk and his long deceased friend. Ron's experience with head injuries, both first and second hand, ruled out that possibility. Other than exhaustion, his mind was clear. He swallowed his fear and shook Harry awake, still not sure if he was dreaming.

It took a moment for Harry to pull himself from his dreams. "Ron?" he asked as he fumbled for his glasses.

"Harry?" Ron's brain still couldn't accepted what was happening.

"What's going on?"

"You're alive?" Ron grabbed his friend in a brief hug. He still didn't quite believe what he was seeing. Not knowing what else to do, he released his friend and stumbled out of the room. Still feeling disoriented from the fight in the death room, he ran blindly. His feet subconsciously taking him to Dumbledore's office. Some part of him realized that he was in the past, some part of him knew that if Harry was at Hogwarts then Dumbledore was almost certainly here. Regardless of what Ron's subconscious had realized, the truth didn't sink in until he saw Dumbledore alive and well.

How quickly thoughts of ending Voldemort filled his head. He could keep his brothers and sister alive! He may finally be able to put aside the guilt of Ginny's death. It was true that part of him relished the the glory and fame that would come with being Voldemort's destroyer, but that was extinguished when Dumbledore had explained the cost.

Ron leaned against the common room entrance, once again overcome by a wave of grief at the thought of his daughter. If Albus was right then she was worse than dead, she had never even existed. Even if he and this Hermione got together in the future and had a daughter, he knew full well that the girl would not be Harriett. The girl would still be his daughter, Harriett's sister, but not Harriett. That entire scenario relied on the unlikely condition of him having a relationship with a woman twenty years his junior.

He was halfway across the common room when a cat let out a loud yowl. He jumped, startled, and turned towards the fire. A familiar orange cat leaped off the chair next to the hearth. "What is it Crookshanks?" a sleepy female voice asked. Ron squinted and saw two figures curled up on the large chair.

It took him a minute to realize that one was Hermione. Crookshanks gave Ron an appraising look before scuttling away into the darkness. Hermione lifted her head from the armrest and looked around the room in confusion. -God she's young- Ron thought upon seeing the woman he had married at twenty six.

When she spotted Ron, Hermione became more alert and shook Harry awake. "Wake up, Ron's back."

Ron wondered what they were doing in the common room before realizing that Harry had probably gone to her for help when Ron had run off. It wasn't exactly normal to be shaken awake at midnight by one's roommate, then have the roommate run off.

Harry got up and stared at Ron blearily, his glasses askew. It looked like he couldn't quite remember why he was in the common room in the first place. It was unnerving how much younger he was than the boy in Ron's memories. Time had blurred the edges, until only the last days were clear. Harry going alone to face Voldemort and his thugs. Harry standing on the grass in front of the lake, a single man facing the wizarding world's collective nightmare. Harry not flinching as Voldemort summoned fiendfyre. Harry being burnt alive at the age of seventeen. Harry's screams almost drowned out by the laughter, almost, but not entirely.

The Harry who stood in front of Ron now was still a boy, he hadn't lost Sirius, he hadn't lost Albus, or Dobby, or Mad Eye. Even Cedric was still alive and well. Ron's thoughts were interrupted by Hermione. "What were you doing in Dumbledore's office for three hours?"

Ron wondered how they had known where he had been before remembering the Marauders' Map. He had forgotten about that useful tool. Ron thought quickly, "Yeah, uh, Dumbledore was explaining why he knew Harry hadn't put his name into the goblet." He shrugged, "Sorry about that mate, guess I was a bit of an idiot." Ron did his best to sound contrite, but he wasn't sure how convincing his act was.

Harry was more awake now. "It alright, forget about it." He seemed genuinely relieved that the fight with the young Ron was over, happy to move on.

Hermione looked from one to the other. She promptly threw her hands into the air and stormed off towards the girls dormitory, "You two are both so stupid."

"What?" Ron asked, very confused.

Hermione spun and faced them from the bottom of the dormitory stairs, "You could have made up weeks ago if you weren't both so pigheaded." She then ascended the stairs, apparently angry at both of them. There was a faint click of Crookshanks' nails on the stone floor as he followed her.

Ron turned back to Harry. He looked relieved, but also a little sceptical. "What were you on about when you woke me up? Sounded like you thought I had died."

Ron shrugged, "Just a dream. It's why I went to see Al- Dumbledore." Ron could already feel the pepper ups wearing off and looked towards the stairs. "Want to talk about this tomorrow, I'm really knackered. Merlin I'm glad it's Friday."

For a moment Ron thought Harry would argue, but exhaustion won over curiosity. The two went up to their dormitories. Despite the mind numbing exhaustion, Ron stayed awake, staring up at the canopy of his bed. He was so tired, but memories of his future plagued him. Not just of his daughter and wife, but of all the friendships and family he may never get to know. Perhaps the worst part of it was the fact that he would have to hide his grief. The only time he would be able to indulge the emotions without raising attention would be when he was alone or with Dumbledore.

Even in his grief, there was one small beacon he clung to, tomorrow he would be seeing Fred and Ginny. Though he was more than a little scared of that impending reunion. More specifically the reunion with Ginny. There was so much guilt tied up with her death that he found himself almost dreading seeing her again. Even if the guilt and grief had been blunted by years, he doubted he had gone a day in the past decade without thinking of his little sister. There was so much he wanted to tell her, ask -no- beg her forgiveness.

Even the comfort he managed to draw from his siblings' lives was a faint candle against the stifling loss of Harriett, Hermione, Bill and Fleur, their kids, or even the brothers and parents he no longer spoke to.

It was very late before Ron's spinning thoughts allowed him to lose consciousness.

The next day Ron stayed in bed until noon. He was somewhat thankful that Harry's bunk was empty when he finally got up. He dragged himself down the stairs, still feeling out of sorts in his much younger body. Everything felt wrong, his legs were too short, his arms too weak, the lights too bright, sounds too loud.

The common room was fairly empty when he reached it, most people were in the great hall for dinner. Ron kept his head down, not wanting to deal with anyone until his stomach was full of lunch and a couple of shots of espresso. The chances of getting a good espresso in wizarding Britain were slim, but he could hope. He had a feeling he would really miss France with their designer coffee and distinct lack of psychotic dark wizards.

"Oy, Ron!" He froze, even after nine years he knew that voice. It chilled him more than Voldemort's laugh. His pulse sped up and his hands became clammy. He no longer needed any caffeine to wake himself.

He turned slowly, she was seated in front of the fire with Crooshanks in her lap. Her back was leaning against the base of the chair. Neville sat in the one opposite her reading a book on Mediterranean plants. "Ginny."

Once again he was struck by how young everyone he met here was. He realized from her confused expression that he had been staring. An image of her beaten body staring blankly ahead filled his vision and he had to blink to dispel it. "You alright? Hermione said you were up late last night talking to the headmaster." She had scooped Crookshanks off her lap and stood.

It was like a dam inside burst. He had often wondered what would happen if he ever saw Ginny alive. It had always been an idle question, like asking what his life would have been if he were sorted into Slytherin as a first year. He had never actually expected to know the answer.

Before he could help himself he had closed the distance between them and enveloped her in a hug. Ginny stood rigid in shock. Ron was aware that he was sobbing. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He just kept repeating those words over and over between gasps.

How many times had he begged the universe for forgiveness? For a moment this whole mess was well and truly worth it. Of all the deaths in the war, hers was the one he would have turned back time to fix. Even as he shied away from the memory of her death he realized that he had been fooling himself in thinking he had gotten over that horrible mission. If he had, he wouldn't be making such a fool out of himself in the common room when he was supposed to be being discrete.

With some effort he released her and backed away, she was still frozen in shock, eyes wide and frightened. Ron tried to laugh it off, "Sorry Gin, had a really bad dream last night where you..." He trailed off and looked around, everyone was looking at him like he had suddenly transformed into Tom Riddle. "Dumbledore said someone must of slipped me a nightmare tonic." Ron had no idea if such a product even existed, but his explanation seemed to satisfy most of the people in the common room.

Ginny was still looking at him as though he were unhinged, but nodded uncertainly. "Hermione said she and Harry were going to be in the library trying to get ready for the first task if you wanted to join them."

Ron nodded, "I think I'll do that."

Ginny was still watching uncertainly, "Yeah." There was an awkward pause before she added, "Must have been some dream to keep you from being such a prat to Harry."

Ron nodded, "It was." His stomach growled. "Hey Nev, you and Ginny want to get lunch?"

Neville pulled his nose out of the book and blinked in surprise. "Me?"

Ron was confused, he thought he remembered hanging out with Neville before fifth year and the DA, but maybe he was wrong. Either way, the boy was a good kid. He and Ginny had dated for nearly four years before splitting up. Neville now had three kids with a muggle he had helped save from some Death Eaters. They had ended up moving to Canada after their second was born, they still kept in touch. "Yeah, why not. Can't spend the whole day reading about sea-monsters."

Lunch was enjoyable if strange. The presence of his sister was almost enough to keep his mind off Harriett. It was all he could do to keep himself together when a wave of grief would hit him at random moments. Interacting with Dumbledore had been so much simpler than dealing with Ginny and Neville. At the very least he didn't have to hide the truth from the old man. Despite his best efforts he found it hard to think of topics of conversation. He couldn't remember any Quiditch standings so he could only nod when someone mentioned some player in the league. He settled for eating like a pig as an excuse for staying quiet.

It seemed to work, or at least his sister and Neville didn't really expect much different from him. Fred and George sat at the end of the table, deeply embroiled in some plot. Ron resisted the urge to run up and hug his brother. Fred would have no doubt made his life very unpleasant for such a 'girly' display of emotion.

When Ron had eaten his fill, he left Neville and Ginny in favour of tracking down Harry and Hermione. He wondered how well he could keep himself from helping Harry with the tasks. He still remembered watching Harry fly against that horntail. Those animals were bloody terrifying. Still Harry had the fake Moody in his corner, helping him along the challenges behind the scenes. Albus had advised Ron to stay quiet on the subject.

Ron sighed, he really wanted to go over the plans for the Horcruxes again and iron out some of the details. It had been difficult to focus on anything other than Harriett during their first meeting. Unfortunately he would have to wait until Sunday. Moody was planning on heading into Hogsmeade. It would be safest to talk with Dumbledore when Moody and his magical eye were no longer on the Hogwarts' grounds. Who knew what the Death Eater was up to, or where he would actually be? The Maurauders' map would insure the privacy while Ron spoke with Dumbledore and retrieved the diadem, locket, and basilisk fangs.

The sword was difficult to use properly. Ron didn't really understand the exact conditions that needed to be satisfied for it to work. Something about being retrieved by 'a true Griffindor in a moment of need'. All in all a basilisk fang was an easier way of destroying the Horcruxes and did not require any mystical hoops to be jumped through.

Though Ron knew he would find Harry and Hermione in the library, finding the library turned out to be more difficult than he had expected. The moving staircases eventually took pity on his poor memory and deposited him in the corridor that led to the library. Once at the heavy oak doors Ron paused to collect himself for the hardest part about going under cover as a fourteen year old. Acting like a fourteen year old.

Hermione- his Hermione- may have called him an immature child in more than one argument over their marriage, but that didn't mean he could pull off a teenage version of himself. How hard would it be to treat Harry, a man that that had died decades ago, like he had seen him yesterday? Or Hermione like he hadn't been in a relationship with her for nearly twenty years? Taking a deep breath he decided on the strategy he used when Hermione was riled at him, keep his head down and mouth shut.

Ron found them at Hermione's regular table, they were each hunched over a heavy book. A massive pile of tomes sat between them. Ron smiled fondly, the consistency of Hermione's love of books was comforting.

The two weren't alone, Krum sat a few tables over, glaring at the book in front of him. Ron nearly laughed, he had forgotten that Krum had had a thing for Hermione. Years from now she had admitted how much she had enjoyed going to the Yule ball with him. A night where people hadn't seen her as 'that bookish snob Granger'.

Ron had no intention of intervening in that part of history. He wondered if he would feel jealous seeing Hermione in the arms of another man. Without hesitating he sat next to Harry and grabbed a book, "What are we looking for?"

Hermione and Harry both looked up, startled. Hermione smiled, and whispered, "Harry needs to find a way past a dragon." Harry gave a weak smile, not able to conceal his nerves.

Ron tried to act surprised, he couldn't remember if he was supposed to know about the dragons yet. "Any luck?" Harry shook his head. In an attempt to lighten the mood Ron joked, "Could just try getting an arrow past a hole in it's armour."

Harry looked confused, but Hermione asked, "When did you read The Hobbit?"

Ron immediately realized his mistake. Ron Weasley, age fourteen, would never have seen the muggle book. He only knew the story because Hermione had read it to Harry when she was six. It was one of his fondest memories. The three of them cuddled on the bed while Hermione read the story, using her wand to alter her voice to match those of the characters. The memory brought with it a knot of grief and Ron winced. He shouldn't have made a such a silly mistake. "Uh, back when I was a kid. Before I headed off to Hogwarts. Mum had a copy lying around." Ron searched for something his fourteen year old self would say, "Kind of boring, no pictures."

Ron watched as Hermione's expression went from being slightly impressed to disappointed. "Oh." She lifted a book from the stack and handed it to him. "This one has lots of pictures," she said condescendingly.

Ron glanced down at the title. "How Not To Train Your Dragon." He shrugged and flipped it open. The book seemed more focused on dealing with baby dragons and didn't contain any useful information. Thankfully they didn't talk much, but as the afternoon wore on even Hermione became frustrated with the apparently fruitless search. It was some time around four that she asked, "Why were you in Dumbledore's office for such a long time Ron?"

Her voice was low enough that the others in the library could not hear. Harry leaned in, curious as well. Ron had spent some time while reading trying to come up with a convincing lie. "The dream really scared me. It took a long time for me to calm down. When I stopped panicking, Dumbledore just talked to me about it."

Harry and Hermione looked at Ron expectantly, neither satisfied by the explanation. "Well what was the dream about?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged, he couldn't think of a lie that sounded convincing. Instead of giving an answer he said, "I'm sorry Harry, I really don't want to think about it anymore."

Harry looked mutinous, but did not push. They continued their research until the sun started nearing the horizon. It was harder than Ron had thought it would be to withhold the Firebolt strategy from Harry.

His mind jumped between his family and the Horcruxes. The locket and the diadem were easy, nothing could be done about Nagini until the end of the tournament. Dumbledore had proven that he was able to deal with the ring. That left Harry and the cup. They were the ones that worried Ron most.

Had Voldemort entrusted the cup to Bellatrix before or after he had come back? Ron wracked his memory for some hint, but it was no use. The way he saw it, there was a fifty fifty chance the cup was in Gringots. Breaking into Gringots could be done, but the main issue was getting in and out without setting off alarms. News of a bank heist would no doubt make Voldemort suspicious. That man was both paranoid and brilliant, a dangerous combination.

Still the possibility of the cup not being where they thought paled in comparison to the possibility that Dumbledore could not remove Harry's Horcrux. Ron shuddered, was Harry doomed to have a short lifespan in every time line? Perhaps becoming a father had changed his perspective but the prospect of a boy, a seventeen year old boy, giving himself up as a human sacrifice made him sick. Looking across at his fourteen year old friend, Ron realized that it angered him more than when Neville had first explained Harry's actions after the battle of Hogwarts. Fate was a bloody pillock. Despite his anger, Ron could hear a tiny voice whispering at the back of his mind, "Harry's life to take Voldemort's. You lost your Harry, why can't this world lose theirs?"

Ron tried to chase the thought from his mind, but he couldn't block it out entirely. He had killed before leaving England, many times. If it came down to it, and Harry was the last Horcrux, some part of Ron knew that he could take his friend's life.

"You alright mate?" Harry asked nervously.

Ron jumped. "What?"

"You alright?" Harry repeated. "You were looking at me a bit weird."

Ron shook his head, "Sorry, all this dragon stuff is making my eyes cross." He looked out at the sun, there were perhaps two hours of daylight left. He should go to the dorms and try figuring out what classes had assignments due when, but he really didn't care. He figured his experience with spells would balance out his complete apathy towards coursework. Besides it would be less suspicious if his grades stayed abysmal rather than improved. Looking at the sky again he said, "You know what? I think I'll go for a fly and check out the dragons. Merlin knows it feels like I haven't been on a broom in years."

Harry looked out the window and Ron could see that any more studying would be futile. Hermione put down her book and crossed her arms, "You two can't possibly be thinking going flying at a time like this? Harry needs to prepare."

"Come on Hermione, just an hour off. The air will clear out our brains."

She sniffed, "Fine, I'll be here."

Ron cocked his head to the side, "You're not coming?"

"Some of us are taking the challenge seriously." She said imperiously.

"All right then." Ron smiled as he turned and headed out of the library. While her words had been clipped, he knew her well enough to know that she was happy he had asked.

Ron hadn't expected Harry to join him, and felt stifled by the company. He had been hoping for some time alone to think. It really had been a long time since he had taken a broom for a spin. There was rarely a need for them when one could flu and apparate.

The wind and speed felt amazing as he zipped over the forbidden forest behind Harry's Firebolt. The speed helped him put things in perspective. He still hadn't given up hope that Dumbledore could get him back to his time. He promised himself that he would keep his grief to himself until Dumbledore could say with absolute certainty that there was no hope.

On some level Ron knew he was in denial, but at the moment he couldn't really deal with the alternative. The only reason he had survived Ginny's death had been because of Hermione and Bill's support. He had been a complete mess, it was a wonder he hadn't killed himself. Of all his family, Bill was the only one who seemed to be able to honestly forgive him.

Flashback

_Ron stared blankly at the ceiling of his flat. It had been a few days since she had died and the funeral was probably finishing up right around now. Hermione had tried to get him to go, but he had refused. He would rather face Voldemort than his family right now._

Over the past couple of days he had done little more than lie on his back, and stare at the ceiling. He was trapped in the memories of her death. They kept replaying themselves over and over. The images weren't the worst part. It was the sounds that got him.

The crunch of her nose breaking, the crack of her head against the floor of the safe house, the crying as blow after blow struck her. Worst of all was the gradual shift from tears to incoherent whimpers, and then nothing. The only sound that had filled Ron's ears were those of the repeated impact of fists on her dead body and the laughter of Death Eaters.

They had snapped his wand and left him in a pool of her blood. He wasn't a threat to Voldemort, he was just a pathetic side kick to a dead legend. A squire without a knight. Not worth killing, but a great example for the rest of the Order.

"He's in our room." Ron was roused by the sound of Hermione in the kitchen. Her words were soft, almost a whisper. She hadn't gone to the funeral either.

"Thanks." Bill? What was he doing here?

There was a creak as the door to his and Hermione's room opened. Light caused Ron to blink repeatedly. He rolled onto his side and saw his oldest brother standing in the door wearing somber black dress robes. Ron realized that it was the first time in years he had seen him without the earring. A small gesture of comfort for their mother? Pushing himself into a sitting position and wincing as his broken hand bumped into the night stand Ron asked, "Why'd Hermione flu you?" Ron was being rude, but he didn't care. Bill and he had never been that close, it seemed like an odd choice.

Bill looked away. "Actually she called mum and dad and asked them to come..." The implication was clear, they wouldn't be coming.

Ron shook his head. "Can't blame them for not wanting to see me. I killed their only daughter."

"No you didn't." The anger in his tone forced Ron to look at his brother. It was rare to see Bill angry. "It was Gregory Smith that killed Ginny and they know that, so should you."

Ron shook his head, "I should have been able to stop it, fight him, save her."

Bill shook his head, "God you're thick Ron. She knew the dangers of fighting on the front lines just as well as you did. I don't blame you for what happened because it is not your fault." There was a pause and Bill added, "I'm just glad they left you alive. I don't want to bury another sibling." Maybe it was the grief, but for the first time Ron realized how old his brother was. He still kept his hair in a long ponytail, but there were the telltale signs of a receding hairline. Not the first thing one noticed considering his prominent scars, but now Ron couldn't get it out of his head.

Bill was getting older, Merlin, they all were. How long was Ron going to keep fighting a battle that was already lost? It had been seven years since Harry had died yet they were no closer to killing Him. They had tried poisons, bombs, curses, everything they could think of. Voldemort was just too hard to pin down. Suddenly Ron envied Bill. His brother had managed to stay out of most of the battles, mostly at his wife's request. Only joining raids when there were some particularly difficult wards to take down. Other than that he lived peacefully with Fleur and their two kids in France.

In that moment, Ron wanted that life desperately. He hadn't realized it at the time, but that was the moment he left the fight. True he had gone on a few more raids after his bones had recovered, but that was the moment the decision was made. Bill had stayed with Ron and even managed to convince him to join Hermione for something to eat.

To Ron's surprise it was Hermione who was the first to bring up the possibility of retiring. She had been lying next to him in bed when she whispered, "We've been in this fight so long, I barely remember why we do it."

It had been hard leaving, turning their backs on the sacrifices of their friends. There had been a lot of stress that first year. Returning to the real world had been a shock, getting jobs in wizarding France was not easy. Nor was living with the guilt of abandoning the fight. Ron and Hermione's relationship had barely survived.

End Flashback

Ron shook off the memories of the day he and Hermione had given up the fight. What would this Harry think of him he wondered? He saw his old friend about a hundred yards ahead doing a barrel roll. This Harry hadn't yet suffered the trauma of watching Voldemort resurrect himself. Ron honestly had no idea how his friend would react to the revelation.

Twilight was approaching and Ron realized that he had Harry had completely forgotten to sneak a look at the dragons. It wasn't like he could have offered any real advice, but it made him realize how much Harry had needed a break.

"Think we should head in?" Ron bellowed.

Harry slowed and let Ron catch up, "What?" He shouted. Ron repeated his question and Harry nodded. The two made their way towards the entrance to the main hall. Ron's mind slightly more settled than it had been.

As they came in for a landing Ron spotted the Moody impostor leaning against the entrance. Ron tried to keep his hatred for the Death Eater off his face. It was not easy. Fortunately Moody didn't spare him a glance with either of his eyes. "That's some impressive flying boy."

Harry stood straighter under the praise and gave a small smile. "Thank you professor."

Ron watched the interaction tensely. Moody must have seen Harry flying and decided it was a good opening. Taking a risk Ron burst into the conversation. "Yeah it's a shame he can't bring his broom to the challenges!"

Both Moody's eyes locked onto Ron. Ron ducted his head, he wasn't sure if he saw suspicion on the man's face or not. "The rules say he can only bring a wand. Don't say anything about using it to get what he needs."

"Professor?" Harry asked.

But Moody had decided that he had given enough of a hint. Turning and limping into the hall he said over his shoulder, "See you boys at dinner."

When he was gone, Ron asked, "What do you think he meant?"

Harry's face lit up, "We need to get Hermione!" Without explaining further he took off towards the library, not bothering to put away his broom.

Ron followed, feeling a little silly running through the halls of Hogwarts with his broom. He passed Draco, but didn't pause to listen to whatever snide comment the boy would inevitably make. By the time he made it to the library Harry was already talking to Hermione in an excited whisper. "We figured out how to do it but I need your help!"

Hermione's eyes widened, she looked at Ron, "What happened?"

Ron shrugged, trying to look ignorant, "Moody said something and Harry took off to see you."

Madam Pince looked up from her desk and hissed, "Shhhh."

Hermione gathered her things. After glancing apologetically at the librarian, she let Harry drag her out of the library. They spent the rest of the evening practising summoning charms. Ron did his best to fail as badly as Harry was, but it was a challenge. Summoning and banishing charms were so deeply ingrained from day to day life that it was difficult to unknown them.

It was nearing midnight before Harry managed to reliably pull a book across the room. Catching the book he was summoning for the fifth time in a row, he grinned, "Next time we hit a block we should just have Hermione threaten us with a dragon."

They all laughed. Hermione shook her head, "Honestly Harry, it's just a matter of practice."

Rather than comment Harry gave a huge yawn, "It's a bit late isn't it? Should probably get some sleep."

Ron and Hermione both agreed, it was nice seeing Harry more relaxed. He was still nervous, but the edge was worn off. Once inside the common room Ron decided to broach the subject of the Marauders' map. "Hey Harry, you mind if I borrow the map tomorrow? I was going to see if I could sneak into the kitchen without being caught."

Harry shrugged, "Sure, want help?"

Ron shook his head, "Naw, don't want to keep you from working on that summoning charm for Tuesday."

Harry nodded, his thoughts back on the impending dragons. Unfortunately Hermione's interest was peeked, "Since when are you interested in the kitchens."

Ron patted his stomach, "I've always been interested, seems like a good way to get food after hours." He grinned.

Hermione wasn't amused. "You're just benefiting from slave labour."

Ron had forgotten that this was the year Hermione had gotten into HELM the house elf liberation movement. It was a cause she would never give up. In Ron's time line she was trying to push through several laws with the Législateur Magique in Paris. An inspector would interview every house elf in France once a year and offer them clothes. Very few elves would accept, but the bad cases of abuse, like the Malfoy's treatment of Dobby, would be limited.

It was not until Dobby had sacrificed himself to save them during the Horcrux hunt that Ron had really begun to think of the elves as people. He winced when he remembered how much he and Harry had teased Hermione for her SPEW campaign. Harry interrupted Ron's thoughts, "You're doing it again," he accused.

Ron shook the thoughts from his head, "What?"

"You were looking at Hermione strangely."

Ron tried to cover, "Sorry, must be more tired than I thought."

"Right..." Hermione trailed off. Ron wondered just how he had been looking at her. He excused himself and went up to his bunk.

As he tried to sleep that night, Ron realized that it had been over five years since he and Hermione had spent more than one night apart. He remembered it clearly. She had been visiting her mum and dad in Australia and had been gone for five days. It had been nearly impossible to fall asleep. As Ron stared a the canopy above his bed he realized now would be no different.

**Thanks for reading, if you enjoyed, please leave reviews. If not tell me why. grammar? characterization? plot? hypnotoad? Constructive criticism welcome. **


	3. The fang, the locket, and the diadem

The fang, the locket, and the diadem

Thanks for Betaing Caitlin:)  
>Standard disclaimer, I own nothing you recognize:(<br>**Authors' Note:**In this chapter we meet Snape. In my opinion he is the hardest character to write. I can count on one hand the stories that do him well. Yes he is a hero and a good man, he is also a giant ass, mostly due to poor socialization, but still an ass. He is a complex character and one of my favourites in the HP verse, but also the hardest to write. Kind of like Methos in that regard. I'm curious how his characterization comes off in this chapter as he is an important character in future chapters.

**Chapter 3: The fang, the locket, and the diadem**

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Ron glanced down at the map, making sure that the coast was clear. It was 11:10, Albus would be back from Hogsmeade at noon. Moody would not be back until four at the earliest. The hall outside Myrtle's lavatory was empty after he left the Chamber of Secrets. Ron did his best to walk casually down the the hall, basilisk fangs wrapped and concealed in his school robes. It had taken several tries to produce a sound close enough to "Open" in parsletongue for the chamber to let him in.

The basilisk's corpse had been exactly where he remembered. Merlin he had forgotten how bad that thing smelled. He applied a scourgefy charm to his robes, removing some of the stench of rotting snake and raw sewage. The next stop was the diadem. While the simplest of the Horcruxes to retrieve, Ron still felt nervous. It would set the tone of this entire quest. If he could actually destroy a piece of Voldemort it meant two things. The first was that fate was not immutable. It was possible for Ron to make changes, important changes, changes that may save wizarding Britain. The second was that fate was not immutable and Albus was right. There was no destiny ensuring that Harriett would be born.

When he arrived at the hallway that housed the room of requirement, he paced back and forth until the entrance appeared. With some trepidation he eased the door open. The massive room was piled floor to ceiling with junk. Some of it looked like it may actually have some value, but most was discarded and broken junk that hadn't been thrown out properly.

It took Ron a long time to locate the diadem. His memories of this place had faded a great deal over the years and the cathedral sized room was a massive labyrinth whose walls consisted of stacks and stacks of virtually every item imaginable. He finally found the discoloured tiara resting on the head of a stone warlock wearing a gold wig.

As he removed the diadem from the statue a shiver ran up his spine. The sensation was so similar to the one elicited by the locket that he almost flung the Horcrux away. Suppressing the urge, he shoved the priceless relic into his robes. He was glad that he wouldn't have to carry it around for hours on end.

Before exiting the room he quickly checked the map to make sure the hallway was clear. He noticed Snape and Dumbledore were in the headmaster's office. Ron hoped Dumbledore wouldn't trust Severus with the secret. It wasn't that Snape wasn't trustworthy, it was simply that the mission required secrecy. The fewer people who knew the better. That and Ron just didn't like Snape. Despite seeing Snape's memories and the man's devotion to Lily Potter, the memories of Snape's petty bullying coloured Ron's opinion of the man.

The trip to the headmasters office took minutes, but it was long enough for Ron to feel the effects of Horcrux wheedling at the edges of his mind. Perhaps it sensed its fate? Perhaps Ron was imagining things, it was hard to tell.

"Bort's Bubblegum." Ron said to the gargoyle guarding the main office. It leaped aside and Ron ascended the staircase.

He knocked on the outer door to Dumbledore's office and heard a muffled, "Enter."

As the door swung open, Ron saw Snape siting in one of two chairs opposite the headmaster's desk. "What is he doing here?" Both Snape and Ron asked simultaneously.

Dumbledore raised his hand to forestall the inevitable argument. "I apologize Ronald. I am aware of your mistrust of Severus, however we must put personal feelings aside and proceed accordingly."

If Snape was thrown by the way Dumbledore addressed Ron, it was nothing compared to the reaction to Ron's response. "It's not that I don't trust the pillock! I just don't like him."

Snape was on his feet immediately. "Twenty points from Griffindor."

"Oh piss off, I'm not in the mood."

Snape was paralysed with rage, his normally sallow expression turning crimson. "What did you say to me?"

"That is quite unnecessary Ronald." The disappointment was very clear in Dumbledore's tone, though Ron had the impression that the headmaster was amused.

Ron sighed; he was behaving more like a fourteen year old than a thirty four year old. "Sorry, didn't get much sleep last night." Dumbledore's face softened in understanding at Ron's exhausted tone. In the lull Ron asked, "How much did you tell him?"

"I waited for you to arrive. One moment please while I insure our privacy." He proceeded to do some quick wand work, repeating the spells he had used the night Ron first arrived.

Snape was utterly baffled by Dumbledore's tolerance of Ron's behaviour. "What is going on?" he asked suspiciously.

Ron slouched in the chair next to the one Snape had vacated. "Short answer, I'm from the future, I'm here to help kill Riddle."

Snape raised an eyebrow skeptically and looked to Dumbledore. "You cannot expect me to believe this. His mind has clearly snapped from living in the shadow of that glory hound Potter."

Ron bit back the response he wanted to spit at the man. Instead he focused on Dumbledore. "Why do we need him?"

"Apart from myself, he is the only wizard I trust who possesses a deep knowledge of Horcruxes." Ron shrugged, he seemed to remember that Dumbledore had kept Snape in the dark about the Horcruxes the first time around. Maybe the old man had changed his mind about keeping too many secrets? Maybe he didn't have to worry about Voldemort torturing the information out of Snape?

Snape's disbelief began to fade as Dumbledore spoke openly to a fourth year about some of the most taboo magic in existence. Ron, for his part, was surprised. He supposed Dumbledore couldn't know everything about everything, but it was strange thinking of the old man needing to consult with someone.

Ron shrugged. "Fine." He reached into his robes and pulled out the diadem. "One Horcrux, Ravenclaw's lost diadem." He put the foul object on the desk. He then pulled out the basilisk fangs. They were nearly as long as his forearm. "One pair of basilisk fangs."

Snape regarded the diadem with contempt. "It is most definitely a Horcrux." He looked to Dumbledore, "You theorized that he would have made more than one?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed. Ronald tells me that there are seven in total."

Snape's eyes widened briefly, the only outward sign of surprise. "That makes sense, Voldemort would like the connection to the number seven."

"Yeah Hermione always said seven was a power number." Ron looked over at grandfather clock anxiously. "Can we kill it or do you want to examine it more?" He hated those objects almost as much as he hated Death Eaters. For whatever reason he had almost no resistance to them. It was the same with the imperious curse. He flinched, there was nothing he loathed more than that spell.

Snape shot Ron a glare. "I see your desire to hex first and ask questions later has not changed Weasley."

Ron bristled, but Dumbledore said, "Severus is right to be cautious about destroying the Horcrux, it may alert Voldemort to our plan. That would cost us our advantage."

"It didn't before." Ron said defensively.

Dumbledore nodded. "Nonetheless, we must be certain. Voldemort was not in his wraith like state when you first went about destroying the anchors that held him to this plane."

"Fine." Ron slumped back in his chair and watched absently as Snape and Dumbledore performed some very complex wand work over the diadem. The minutes stretched on and finally Ron asked, "Do you know if Sirius is at Grimauld place?"

Dumbledore glanced up from his work. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on Ron, a sign Ron recognized from when Hermione was deep in thought. "I do not believe so, why?"

"I was going to go get the locket while you two figure out if it's safe to destroy that one."

Albus shook his head, "That is not advisable. You are still physically underage and as such subject to the trace. There is also a very good chance that the ministry has the flu to 12 Grimauld place under surveillance."

"Right, forgot about that." Ron felt slightly foolish. Not being allowed to perform magic outside of school would make things more difficult. "Can you make me a portkey? I don't need any magic to pick up the locket. Even if I do, I can be out of there before the ministry shows up to investigate."

Albus hesitated before levitating a small crystal ball off his desk. "Portus" The ball glowed blue momentarily before returning to normal. "This will allow you one trip to and from Grimauld place, the pass phrase is 'Lemon drop'." Ron nodded and held out his hand. Before handing over the ball, Albus asked, "Are you certain you do not need help with this?"

Ron shook his head, "I'll be fine. This is one of the easy ones."

"Be careful Ronald." Albus said before sending the portkey to Ron's hand.

"I will be." Ron gripped the sphere tightly and said, "Lemon drop."

There was a gut wrenching lurch as Ron was carried away to Sirius' family home. Seconds after he had landed in an awkward pile on the floor in the entry way, the portrait of Sirius' mother began screaming bloody murder. "Thief! Thief! Filthy blood traitor! How dare you trespass in the most noble house of Black!"

Ron stood, panicked. He wished he could use his wand to silence the old cow, but that would attract the ministry before he had the locket. Grabbing the hangings on either side of the portrait, he pulled them shut, somewhat muffling her screams. Before Ron could even breath, something heavy ran into the back of his knees. He collapsed on ground in pain. His attacker turned out to be a bewitched brass umbrella stand. Once he was on the ground, the stand rose into the air and stomped down onto Ron's stomach, winding him. Regaining his breath while kicking at the violent piece of furniture was not easy. When he could finally form words he wheezed, "Kreacher, I'm here to help Regulus. Call it off. Call it off."

There was a sharp snap of fingers and the umbrella stand was mercifully stilled. "What does the blood traitor thief mean?" Came the croaking voice of Kreacher.

Ron looked around to see if he could spot the elf. He though he saw his ears protruding from one of the shadows, but it could have been a mouldy house plant. "Regulus gave you a locket to destroy before he was killed by V-Voldemort's inferi." Ron forced himself to say the name, he had to keep reminding himself that it wasn't being tracked yet. "I know how break the bloody thing."

Kreacher stepped out of the gloom. "Evil, Evil locket." He spat, "Kreacher tried and tried to break it but he couldn't scratch it. How does the thief know he can do it."

Ron pushed himself off the grimy floor, feeling the effects of the beating even through the rush of adrenaline it had released. He wasn't looking forward to the bruises that would form. In as calming a voice as he could manage he said, "There's a special tool that can destroy it back at Hogwarts. Voldemort put protection on it, but we know how to break it."

Kreacher was suddenly angry, and Ron remembered that the elf had spent so much time alone he didn't know how to keep thoughts to himself anymore. "Triksy thief, trying to get his hands on the locket. Take it to the fool Dumbledore. Kreacher's mistress has warned Kreacher about him."

"No, I swear I want to destroy it!"

"He lies." Kreacher hissed.

Ron thought frantically. He could take the locket by force, but it would be minutes before the ministry showed up. He needed another tact. "You don't have to trust me. You can keep it with you. Just come with me to Hogwarts." Ron paused and added, "Once it's destroyed, it will stop whispering to you."

Kreacher's watering eyes snapped to Ron's, "How does he know about the whispering?"

Ron felt that he was finally getting somewhere, "I hear it too. Whenever it's near I can feel it picking at me."

Without answering Kreacher began hobbling towards the kitchen. Ron knew the elf had a nest under the stair in the kitchen, and wondered if he had kept the locket with him all these years. It was a wonder the elf wasn't crazier.

Kreacher did not seem to be in any hurry and it took nearly five minutes for him to emerge from under the stairs. The locket dangled from his hands and dragged over the floor as he walked towards Ron. Ron grinned, "Good job Kreacher." He fished the crystal ball out of his robes and held it out to the elf, "This will take us to Hogwarts." Kreacher reached out and laid his gnarled hand on the sphere. Ron said the activating word. "Lemon drops."

The two were immediately returned to Dumbledore and Snape, who were still busy flicking their wands over the diadem. Honestly Ron had to wonder if they were just doing it for show. Both men looked up at their arrival.

Snape glared down at the house elf as though it were a mess he had just stepped in. "What is that doing here?"

"He didn't trust me with the locket." Ron answered.

At the same time Kreacher muttered, "Stupid old man, mistress tells Kreacher how he poisons the bloodlines."

Dumbledore smiled at Kreacher before asking Ron, "Are you certain it is a good idea that he knows about this?"

"Why not? He has as much reason to hate Riddle as anyone. Regulus died trying to destroy that locket." Ron said pointing at the Horcrux in Kreacher's hand.

Dumbledore did not look pleased about letting another person in on the secret. Kreacher for his part sat and muttered, "The thief promised to help Kreacher destroy the locket."

Dumbledore answered for Ron, "We are nearly done our tests. They will tell us if it is safe to destroy."

Kreacher was not pleased, he walked over to the corner of the office where he sat and glared. He kept the locket clutched to his chest protectively and began muttering to himself.

Ron sat back in his chair opposite the headmaster's desk and did his best to ignore Severus and Dumbledore's debate over interlocking arithmetic shades. He soon found his eyelids drooping. It was a situation Ron was fairly used to. Whenever Hermione had one or more of her coworkers over for dinner they would often get into long drawn out debates of this type. Ron had long ago learned to tune it out.

His head bobbed, and he shook himself awake. The only thing keeping Ron in the office was his desire to speak to Dumbledore. Once they were done with the diadem and locket, Ron wanted to have a real discussion with Albus about retrieving the ring and the cup. He had not been at his most alert during their first talk and had had a few ideas since then.

It was nearing three thirty when the professors finally finished their examination. At least Albus was satisfied. "I do not believe there is any danger of Voldemort being alerted when we destroy this Horcrux."

"Good," Ron said as he reached for the fang that was still wrapped in an old jumper on the desk.

"I must protest." Severus interjected. "I do not believe there is a danger, however we should not leave things to chance. The best course of action is to gather them together first, then destroy them."

"No." Ron said forcefully. "I'm not leaving those things in a school full of kids any longer than I can help. That's doubly true when there's a Death Eater running about." Ron stated.

"I assure you Kakarof has no more interest in seeing the return of the Dark Lord than I do." Snape responded bitterly.

"What?" Ron realized that Dumbledore hadn't explained about Moody. "Never mind." Ron shook his head, "I still don't want them around the kids.

If Snape was suspicious of Ron's dismissal of Kakaroff he gave no indication. Instead he arched an eyebrow. "And what makes you believe you have a say in this matter?"

Ron glowered back, "I'm the one who went and got them, you git."

Before Snape could respond Dumbledore interjected, "Calm down, both of you. I happen to agree with Ronald. The risk of alerting Voldemort is far smaller than the the risk of leaving his Horcruxes intact."

"Thanks." Ron said as he approached the desk. Unwrapping the basilisk fang he exposed the poisonous tip. Even after two years, the venom gleamed off it. The diadem seemed to shrink back from the fang, though it never actually moved. Grasping the fang in the middle with his left hand he let the tip rest against the main gem set at the centre of the diadem. He struck the butt of the fang sharply with his palm, causing a small occlusion to appear on the surface of the gem.

It was strange watching the magic leave the object. The colour seemed to bleed away from the tarnished gold and gems. A dark fluid similar to blood spread out bellow the diadem. The relic looked oddly smaller than it had a moment ago, though Ron was sure its measurements wouldn't show a change.

Dumbledore brought his open hand inches from the former Horcrux before nodding. "It is dead."

Ron glanced at the time. Three thirty exactly; there was still plenty of time to deal with the locket before Moody came back. Dumbledore picked up the diadem and carried it over to a large painting of one of the past headmasters. With a flick of his wand it swung away from the wall revealing a recess in the stone where he gently placed the broken diadem. "It is a great shame that he had to desecrate one of the only relics left of such a great witch." Ron was struck by how sad the headmaster sounded. While he was never overly interested in the history of the wizarding world even he could understand that one should not take pleasure from the destruction of priceless antiques.

Kreacher had watched the whole thing in uncharacteristic silence. He eyed the fang in Ron's hand hungrily. "Gives it to Kreacher." He croaked.

Ron looked at the elf warily. The locket was a far more dangerous Horcrux. He distinctly remembered destroying it the first time around and wondered if the elf would survive. "That's not a good idea Kreacher. This one is dangerous."

"Master Regulus wanted Kreacher to destroy it." The elf was mutinous.

Ron wondered if they were going to need to owl Sirius and have him order the elf to put down the locket. Ever the peacemaker Dumbledore said, "Kreacher, you have done what your master wanted and brought the locket to those who can destroy it. He would be pleased."

The elf looked at Dumbledore suspiciously, but shuffled forward to the desk and placed the locket where the diadem had rested moments before. Ron was suddenly hesitant. Last time the locket had used his greatest fears and insecurities against him. It had been embarrassing enough to have Harry witness that. He looked to Snape and said, "Leave."

Snape glared. "You don't give me orders Weasley."

Ron glared right back and motioned towards the door with the fang, "Out there I'm your student, and I have to listen to you. But when it comes to destroying these things I'm in charge." He patted the palm of his free hand against his chest.

Snape looked to Dumbledore. "Albus?"

Dumbledore showed no outward sign of being annoyed at the two's bickering, in fact he seemed to be in a fairly cheerful mood. "Ronald has mention that the locket can reveal... Embarrassing truths and I understand his desire to chose whom he exposes those to."

Snape was furious, but headed for the door. Before opening it he said, "I will see you in potions tomorrow."

Ron shivered at the words. It was amazing how threatening that simple sentence was. Once gone Ron turned back to the locket. "Stand back." Kreacher and Albus both backed away from the desk and Ron hissed, "Open," in parsletongue. This time it only took one try.

Slowly the locket creaked open of it's own accord, revealing a single eye sitting embedded in the place where a picture should have been. It looked around the room frantically before settling on the fang in Ron's hand. Ron raised it and stepped forward, ready to destroy the locket in the same way he had the diadem.

He froze. She was standing between him and the desk. Looking so real his heart nearly stopped beating. Every detail was exact, from the way she held herself to the way her bushy red hair bounced around her shoulders. "Daddy, what are you doing?"

Tears stung his eyes. "You're not her." He grit his teeth. He knew it wasn't her, he knew she was just an image projected by the Horcrux but he did not step forward.

She laughed. "Don't be silly daddy. Of course I'm not her, but I can be." Glancing back at Albus she said, "You know he won't help you get them back. I can see into his mind, he won't touch that magic, but I will." She grinned and it was no longer the smile of a child. "Help restore me and I will restore your family."

"You're lying." Ron hissed. Why couldn't he have let Kreacher do this, or Albus, or hell, even Snape?

"She's not." Suddenly Hermione was at Harry's side. Not the girl of this time, but the woman Ron had married, the one he had kissed before leaving for that blasted mission three days ago. "He can help you get us back. You just have to trust..."

Ron couldn't listen to the lies any more. He pushed through the ghosts of his family and smashed the fang down on the eye. The locket jumped as the Horcrux was destroyed, but Ron brought the fang down hard twice more for good measure. When he was done he let it fall to the floor. For a long time, the only sound was Ron's ragged breathing as he tried to compose himself. He used both hands to support his weight against the heavy desk.

When he finally raised his head, he saw Dumbledore watching him with an expression of grave pity. "I am sorry Ronald."

Ron shook his head. "You said that last time I saw you."

"It does not change the the fact that I am. I can see that losing your family is taking its toll on you. You should be given time to grieve."

Ron pushed the emotions back down. He didn't want to deal with them. So. He. Wouldn't. "Is it dead?"

Dumbledore didn't press the issue, for which Ron was grateful. As with the diadem he held his hand over the locket and nodded. "It is destroyed." He then picked it up and placed it with the diadem behind the portrait.

Ron collapsed in his chair feeling like he was a thousand years old. He was surprised when Kreacher appeared at his elbow, "Is master Weasley well?" He croaked.

Ron gave a weak smile. "I will be." He hesitated, he knew it was dangerous to let the elf go without wiping his memory, but the creature's mind was already fragile and a spell like Obliviate could break it. "You have to keep this a secret Kreacher. Do you understand? If anyone finds out before we're done it could make Regulus' sacrifice mean nothing."

Kreacher seemed to understand, bowing, he said, "Kreacher will not tell anyone unless Kreacher's master orders it."

"Thank you." The wizened elf bowed before disappearing with a pop. Ron looked back at Dumbledore. "Next time you see Sirius, tell him to treat Kreacher right. He's had a rough go of it, he's been guarding that locket since before I was born."

Dumbledore took his seat opposite Ron. He was looking at Ron in an appraising manner. "I will make sure of it." He hesitated before saying, "You have matured a great deal Ronald."

Ron smiled weakly. "All Hermione's doing." He looked back at the wall, it was hard to believe only fifteen minutes had passed, "Do we have time to talk about the cup and the ring?"

Dumbledore nodded, "I believe so."

Ron sighed, "I told you last time that I don't know much about the ring. Harry said you got it out of the floor boards of Riddle's grandfather's house. The Gaunts I think." Ron saw Dumbledore's eyes light up at the mention of the resurrection stone. "I think we should get that one last. There was a curse or something on it that eventually killed you."

"I will have to do some research to find the house, though I am certain I shall be able to locate it." It was then that the headmaster asked something unexpected, "Would you like to accompany me when I try and recover the ring?" He saw Ron's thunderstruck expression and continued, "In my previous attempt to recover it I must have done something wrong. Perhaps having someone at my side will reduce the risks."

"S-sure Albus." Ron paused, "It's just that the last time you went for the locket you took Harry with you."

Dumbledore sighed, "Harry is still too young to be taken into one of Voldemort's vaults."

Ron nodded, "Speaking of vaults, how are we going to get into Gringotts?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "That is a task I shall handle alone. After Voldemort's attempt to steal the Philosopher's stone I was contracted to aid in improving the security of the bank. I believe I can retrieve Hufflepuff's cup without raising an alarm."

"Oh." That was far simpler than Ron had imagined. Of course there were two Horcruxes left to discuss. Nagini and Harry. "Any luck with getting the one in Harry."

"Unfortunately I know of no way of removing the piece of Voldemort without killing Harry. For a number of years after Harry survived the killing curse I believed he was the only Horcrux Voldemort had. It was not until Harry brought me the diary that I realized my mistake. It seems the only way for Voldemort to be banished for good is for Harry to die."

"Can't you just get a dementor to suck it out?" Ron asked helplessly. He had asked Hermione that same question years ago. She had sighed and said that 'magic didn't work that way'.

Dumbledore chuckled. "If only it were that simple."

Ron looked down at the stone floor, "You know what that means then."

"Ronald, no."

He met the headmaster's eyes, "Once Nagini is dead, we need to consider killing Harry." Ron felt disgusted even voicing the words, but he didn't see any other way.

Dumbledore was grim. "I can see the future has hardened you considerably as well. I cannot condone the killing of an innocent."

Ron laughed bitterly. "You didn't have a problem with that the last time around."

"He is fourteen years old. Could you do it?"

Ron shook his head, "You don't understand. Harry was my best friend. When I was seventeen I watched Voldemort burn him alive." He shook off the memory. "Harry made the choice to go out there and give his life to try and stop that maniac for good." There was a pause, "It didn't work. All I'm saying is that when we manage to finish off the Horcruxes we give Harry that choice again."

There was a very long silence. Neither Dumbledore or Ron broke eye contact. Finally Dumbledore said, "I must think about this. There must be a way to remove it, something we have not thought of." He leaned back in his chair, "There is also the issue of our imposter. Are you certain you can avoid arousing his suspicion? You will sit opposite him in class for the rest of the semester."

"I don't know. You're sure we can't just switch him out with the real Moody?" The prospect of class with that lunatic did not make Ron comfortable.

"I wish that were possible however I believe that he is using his mark to keep Voldemort abreast of the situation. We need him in place if we wish to capture Nagini. There is the added complication that he appears to be Voldemort's secret keeper."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked.

Albus looked very tired. "After our first meeting I sought out the grave of Tom Riddle senior. I was unable to locate the cemetery."

Ron cursed, "It's under the Fidelius charm?"

Albus nodded, "Indeed. It appears Voldemort has found a way to ensure we cannot provide Harry with a rescue party."

The next topic Ron broached carefully. "About that, I think I know a way of keeping Harry out of that fight."

It was nearly four thirty by the time Ron left the headmaster's office. He only left because Barty Crouch appeared on the edge of the Marauders Map. Dumbledore hadn't liked Ron's idea for dealing with the final task, but he had promised to consider it. He had also given Ron a parting gift. A journal he could write in that no one else could read. He flipped it open and found an inscription from Dumbledore. "Though you cannot grieve publicly, this journal will give you a chance to do so privately."

Ron was grateful for the gift. He had never been one for writing in a journal, but he had been feeling somewhat trapped at the prospect of living undercover for the next six months. It would be soothing to have something, anything, that he could be honest with.

He was nearing staircase outside the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office when a voice from behind caused him to freeze, "What were you doing talking to Dumbledore again?"

He spun around and saw Harry and Hermione standing behind him. The sudden movements jarring his umbrella stand induced bruises. Harry was tucking the edge of his invisibility cloak into his robes. How long had they been outside the office? He had been so focused on looking at Moody's set of footprints he hadn't kept an eye out for Harry or Hermione. "Nothing."

It was evident that neither of his friends believed him. Come to think of it, "How'd you know where I was?"

"We went down to the kitchen's after lunch. When we couldn't find you Hermione guessed you were talking to Dumbledore." Harry looked angry. "So what were you doing there?" he asked again.

-Bugger,- Ron thought. -So much for keeping them from being suspicious.- His mind spun, searching for a way to keep them out of his mess. If they somehow found out, or clued Moody into it, he was finished. "Remember in third year, Hermione had that time turner and couldn't tell us about it?" Ron asked.

Harry looked at him blankly. "Of course we remember, it wasn't six months ago."

"Right." Ron trailed off, he needed to be more careful with how he worded things. "Anyway. Something like that is going on with me and I need you two to promise me that you won't ask about it or try to find out what it is."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Not expecting this tack. "Will you tell us what it is eventually?" Hermione asked.

"Next summer at the latest." Ron waited with his breath held.

"Very well." She said hesitantly.

"Yeah, alright." Harry nodded, though he seemed uneasy.

Ron smiled in relief. "Thanks. Sorry about lying earlier."

As the three headed back to the common room Harry went over his plans again for the dragon. Now that he was comfortable with the summoning charm he was tossing around other strategies he could use.

Ron did his best to follow the conversation, but his thoughts kept being drawn back to the little girl and woman the locket had shown him. The Horcruxes could not be destroyed soon enough.


	4. The First Challenge

As per usual, I own none of these characters.

I feel like I should apologize. I meant to have this chapter up weeks ago, but work and "A Song of Ice and Fire" kept me occupied. For anyone who hasn't read the Game of Thrones series I would highly recommend it, despite the graphic violence, it has some very entertaining and well written characters.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: The First Challenge<strong>

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><p>The first day of classes breezed by. A forgotten potions assignment led to a detention from a smirking Snape, but apart from that the day passed smoothly. Pretending to be a bored fourth year was easier than he had expected. It mostly involved not listening in class and taking down notes when a professor was watching. It was lucky that he didn't have Defence on Mondays, he wasn't sure he was ready to face Crouch Jr. yet.<p>

The most difficult thing for Ron to come to terms with was that Harry and Hermione weren't _his_ Harry and Hermione. Harry was one thing; Ron hadn't interacted with the boy in so long, the familiarity between them had dulled. Hermione was a different matter altogether. Despite being the same person as his wife, she wasn't the same person as his wife. She was still a child; a child closer to Harriett's age than his own.

Tuesday and the first task came all too soon. Ron was seated in the stands with Hermione, waiting to see which dragon Harry would face. Ron's knuckles went white gripping his seat as he watched Krum and Fleur retrieve their eggs. Both received some damage from their dragon. Ron's heart lurched when a plume of flame caught Fleur's robes. He may not know her yet, but she was his favourite sister-in-law. Though it was crass to think it, he cared more for her than he did for most of his surviving siblings.

Hermione was in a similar state. Her fists were bunched and tangled in her school robes. She was biting her bottom lip so hard it amazed Ron that she hadn't drawn blood. Tempting as it was to comfort her, Ron couldn't exactly tell her that he had already seen them all survive. The one good thing about the spectacle was that it kept his mind off the mess of his life. There wasn't time to worry about Voldemort, Harry's potential death months in the future, or even Ron's non-existent family. All he could do was watch as his friends and future family fought for their lives.

This time around Harry was third to face a dragon. His challenge was an angry looking, red Chinese Fireball. The task started out similarly to Ron's memories. Harry came out of the champion's tent looking very small and nervous. The Firebolt seemed to take forever to be summoned from the castle. Then Harry was in the air, and Ron was on his feet cheering with the rest of Griffindor. Harry bobbed and wove, his face a mixture of fierce joy and single minded focus.

Once during the long months of the Horcrux hunt, Ron and Harry had debated what type of animal their animigii forms would be. There was little doubt in Ron's mind that Harry was meant to be some kind of bird, perhaps a swallow or starling. Something darting and fast.

Unlike the last time Harry had faced the dragon, he now used a stinging hex to the animal's face, encouraging it to leave its nest and chase him. Ron wondered what had changed between then and now. It only took Harry minutes to get the egg and land at a safe distance. Ron and Hermione were out of the stands before Harry's feet touched the ground.

They congratulated him heartily while Madam Pomfrey fussed over him, making sure he hadn't been singed by the temperamental dragon. The party in the common room that night was boisterous, but Ron left early. Seeing his friends and peers celebrating made him nauseous. The butterbeer and chocolate no longer wanted to settle in his stomach. How stupid were they? How could they not know that this was all a lie; that in a few short years every single one of them would lose a friend or family member? He slipped up the stairs to his dormitory without saying goodnight.

Real grief was not an all-consuming pressure as often portrayed in the romance novels Ron found on the bookshelf at home. Hermione swore she didn't read them, but every now and then there was a new one on the shelf. It came in swells, a tsunami of emotion, bowling him over without warning. The reprieve that the first challenge had provided was not enough to keep it at bay for long. He sat on the windowsill in his darkened dormitory and cried softly. Seeing his daughter and wife's image twisted by the Horcrux had torn at him. This was the first time he had been alone since then, and the tears came unbidden.

There was no question that Voldemort's locket had been lying to preserve itself. Even if there existed some dark magic that could bring his family back, Ron knew that the real Voldemort would never help him. The mountains of bodies Voldemort had created in the death room shadowed Ron's dreams. He would never even want that monster to do something like that on his behalf. No matter how desperately Ron wanted his family back, there were lines he would not cross.

It was difficult to judge how long he had been alone in the room before she found him. He was resting his head against the cool glass of the window when the candles flared to life. Hermione was standing in the doorway, she was clearly disappointed. "I thought you had gotten over the jealousy?"

Ron was momentarily confused. As he wiped the tears away with the palms of his hands, he realized that Hermione probably though he was upset by the party in Harry's honour. How much of a prat had he been these last months? "Believe it or not, this has nothing to do with him."

"Are you certain?" She was not convinced.

Ron shook his head. "Really Hermione, nothing to do with Harry Potter." He gave a false grin as he finished wiping away the tears from his face.

"What is it then?" she asked, now genuinely worried. She joined him in his seat on the windowsill. Ron leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Hanging his head, he let the exhaustion of the past couple of days catch up to him. Hermione tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. "Please Ron, tell me."

-It isn't her. It isn't her.- Ron repeated in his mind. While Ron wasn't physically attracted to the young Hermione, he felt guilty even drawing platonic comfort from his friend. It was as though accepting comfort was a betrayal of his Hermione. Like he was replacing her. Without looking up, Ron shook his head. "I can't talk about it."

There was a long silence. "Th-the headmaster isn't doing anything inappropriate, is he?"

Ron's head shot up so fast he nearly fell off the sill. "What?"

Hermione flustered. "You were at his office awfully late, and then you disappeared for three hours on Sunday, and you have been acting so strange and closed off. T-they warned us about the signs of that sort of behaviour in primary school and I thought I should ask."

Her cascade of words was cut off by Ron's laughter. It wasn't meant to be derisive, it was simply that Hermione's concerns hadn't even crossed his mind, he had been so focused on other things. When his laughter subsided he could see that Hermione was upset with him. "I'm sorry Hermione, I'm glad you're looking out for me and all, but Merlin, can you really picture Dumbledore doing something like that?"

Hermione blushed, embarrassed. "Well, I suppose not, but I thought I should ask."

Ron leaned back against the glass. "I'm glad you did." He sobered. "Really Hermione, Dumbledore is helping me with something. I wish I could tell you what, but I can't." He looked up at the ceiling, "Sorry for letting you see me like that." He turned and smiled to show that he was fine.

"You're certain you'll be all right?"

Ron nodded. "Go enjoy Harry's party." When Hermione left the room, Ron began getting ready for bed.

The next two weeks of classes were remarkably stressful and surreal for Ron. At thirty-four he still had the occasional nightmare of being late for Snape's potions. He found himself repeatedly checking to make sure he was fully clothed, just in case he ended up going to class pantsless.

Finding sleep without Hermione next to him in bed was still difficult. When night came he couldn't silence his spinning thoughts. More than once he had snuck into the kitchens and relieved the house elves of a bottle of cooking sherry. A blessedly low alcohol tolerance was an unexpected boon of waking in his younger body. He knew Hermione wouldn't approve, but she didn't really exist anymore, now did she?

The most difficult task was making himself look like a typical fourth year both in attitude and aptitude. Some classes such as charms and DADA were completely trivial. Others, like potions, may as well have been taught in Egyptian hieroglyphs. He hadn't made a potion more advanced than soup since he was seventeen. Emergency-Medi-Wizards only needed to know which potions to give, not how to brew them themselves. His grades were even lower than Neville's; A fact that exasperated Hermione, but delighted Snape.

Ron found himself desperately wanting to visit Dumbledore, hoping for some kind of unguarded conversation. Unfortunately, it was too dangerous to be caught in the headmaster's company. They had scheduled a meeting Saturday, two weekends after the first task. So Ron played his part, goofing off in the classes he could afford to, paying more attention in those he needed to, and usually sleeping through divination.

The absolute lack of freedom as a student stifling. There were curfews, classes, scheduled meal times, and very little time in any given day to do what one wanted. All the while professors barked orders like they didn't trust the students to tie their own shoes. It struck Ron as odd that he was beginning to feel a certain kinship with the Moody impostor; trapped in a role he loathed.

Ron found himself craving the weekends and the free time more than his classmates. The Saturday of his meeting couldn't arrive soon enough. Moody was scheduled to be out of the castle by one, leaving the morning free. Ron rose early in the hopes of getting in a good long fly. Clear his mind before removing the memories to be placed in Dumbledore' pensieve.

The halls were nearly empty at nine in the morning. He was bundled against the cool November weather, broom slung over his shoulder when he heard a familiar, but very out of place voice. I do not understand how monsieur Dumbeldore expected us to find our way out of this maze? Ron recognized the French voice immediately.

Coming around the corner he spotted Fleur's parents the Delacours. They were accompanied by Gabrielle, Fleur's eight year old sister. Ron grinned, she was unbelievably tiny. He had a difficult time reconciling the girl in front of him with the gorgeous bombshell of a woman she would grow into. What were they doing at Hogwarts? "Bonjour, je peux vous aidez?" he asked, automatically slipping into the language he had used at work for the past decade.

Fleur's father and mother looked at Ron in surprise. Mr. and Mrs Delacour made a very odd couple. Mr. Delacour was short, plump, and good natured, while his wife was tall, blond, gorgeous, and slightly snobby, though unfailingly polite. Mr. Delacour seemed delighted to see someone who spoke his language, "Ah you speak French. Perhaps you can help us find our way to the Beaux Batton carriage?"

"I am going that way myself, it would be no trouble to show you." Ron smiled; it had been a while since he had seen his brother's in-laws. Mr. Delacour was always good for a game of chess.

"Oh Merci. We flued to the headmaster's office, but have gotten lost. The passages of 'Ogwarst seem to move about on their own." Mr. Delacour gave a self-deprecating laugh.

"They tend to do that." Ron held out his hand, "Ronald Weasley."

The Delacours introduced themselves and Ron chatted amicably with them as he lead them out the main entrance and towards the great carriage that held the Beaux Batton students. It seemed that the Delacours were in England for Fleur's birthday. Ron had enough trouble keeping track of Harriett and Hermione's, and felt he should be excused for not knowing that his sister-in-law's had been coming up. The coincidence of meeting the Delacours was not lost on Ron. Had Dumbledore orchestrated the meeting, knowing that seeing the Delacours would cheer Ron up? He wouldn't put such interference past the old man, but the result had been pleasant.

Fleur met them at the doors of the carriage, having seen them coming from one of the windows. She hugged her sister enthusiastically, showing more emotion than Ron had seen since he came back. Ron gave a parting wave to Mr. and Mrs. Delacour before saying to the girl, "Happy birthday, and good luck with the egg."

She looked at him, perhaps surprised by his candour, and answered, "Merci." Ron nodded and slung his broom off his shoulder. He pushed off the ground ready to enjoy a morning in the air.

Hours later he once again found himself in front of the gargoyle. Harry had lent him the map without asking too many questions, though Ron could tell that the boy was curious. Once inside the office he glanced at the map and was relieved to see that Snape was absent. It took him a while to locate Harry who was hanging around the kitchens with Hermione and, surprisingly, Ginny. Maybe Hermione had won them over to the SPEW cause.

Ron knocked on the outer door. "Enter." Dumbledore called from the opposite side.

The desk was cleared of all clutter and only the pensieve rested at the centre. He smiled, "How did Harry and Ms. Granger take the news of another meeting with me?"

"They're curious, but I think they'll leave off the questions. At least Hermione doesn't think your buggering me anymore." Ron laughed.

The headmaster's eyes widened in surprise. Ron couldn't help feeling satisfied at perturbing the normally unflappable headmaster. There was even the hint of a blush on Dumbledore's cheeks. After a moment he said, "I will admit that our meetings could be misconstrued by an outside observer."

"Don't worry about it, she was just trying to explain why I've been acting strangely." He shook his head fondly. "I should be glad I have friends who look out for me. She and Harry should leave it alone until after this mess is cleaned up."

It was Dumbledore's turn to look amused. He quirked an eyebrow, "Are you certain? You three have been remarkably adept at finding out things you were not meant to know."

Ron laughed, "Yeah I remember." He sobered and added, "I also remember that Harry and Hermione were rubbish at acting. If either knew what was going on, Crouch would smell something rotten in a week."

Dumbledore nodded, "It is of course your decision, you know them better than I."

"So the cup." Ron changed the subject to the issue of the Horcrux and away from the friends he was duping.

"Indeed. Were you able to calm your mind?" While Ron had used pensieves in the past, he had never tried extracting his own memories for someone else to view.

Ron nodded, "Yeah just like Occlumency practice." He did not elaborate on the fact that after three years, Hermione had given up trying to teach him that art as a lost cause. He could mount a small defence to an attack, but a legilemens would instantly know he was trying to conceal something, and if someone like Snape of Voldemort really wanted information, they would be able to get at it in seconds, minutes at most.

Dumbledore gave Ron a brief knowing look and Ron doubted that he had fooled the headmaster for a second. With great enthusiasm Dumbledore exclaimed, "Excellent! The spell is straightforward. Simply, focus on the memory you wish to extract." He paused, waiting for Ron.

Ron thought back through the years and tried to remember everything he could about the raid on Gringots. "Got it." He said after a minute.

"Now place your wand at your temple and say 'Preservas Veritas'."

Ron did so and felt one of the odder sensations of his life. The images and sounds of the memory suddenly jumped into sharp relief. Every detail was crystal clear. He could count the freckles on his face as he looked at his reflection in the polished marble floor of the bank. Somewhere outside the memory he heard Dumbledore's voice, "Now remove the memory."

As Ron pulled the wand from his forehead he saw the images get pulled with it, leaving empty tracks where the memory should have been. He knew what the memory was, and in an abstract sense what had happened at the bank that day, but they were memories of the memory. Examining the thought too closely was confusing, it felt like had dozens of tunnels in mind dug out by ants. He shivered as the shimmering mass of living memories separated from his temple. He stood and dropped it into the silver liquid of the pensive.

Dumbledore stood and dipped his wand towards the bowl. "May I?"

Not knowing the etiquette of inviting another into ones' memories, Ron shrugged and said, "Go ahead." As soon as Dumbledore's wand made contact, his eyes lost focus with the rest of the room. Ron watched a projection of Gringots shimmer across the surface of the pensive and placed his wand next to the headmaster's.

He walked the headmaster through the break-in though it was fairly self-explanatory. When the memory ended they were ejected from the pensieve. "Want to see it again?" He asked.

Dumbledore shook his head, "I have seen enough and it is getting late." A glance at the clock revealed that close to an hour had passed since entering the memory. Dumbledore walked Ron through the procedure for returning memories to his mind. Once done he felt whole again.

Out of curiosity Ron asked, "You never said how you were going to get it out."

Dumbledore smiled and winked, he seemed completely unconcerned by the impending bank heist. He may as well have been planning a picnic. "It is remarkable how many of the protective charms of Gringotts focus on keeping treasure in rather than intruders out. As long as I take nothing when I leave, I believe I shall be able to access the vault."

"Then how..." Ron trailed off as he realized that Dumbledore had no intention of bringing the cup back to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore's smile grew. "Indeed Ronald. I shall not move the cup from its resting space."

Ron leaned back in his seat and exhaled in a rush. "Are you going tonight?" Dumbledore nodded. Ron rubbed his face tiredly. "I was thinking. If you do set off an alarm, can you steal something from one of the other vaults? Make it look like you were after someone's gold. Might keep Riddle from getting suspicious."

Dumbledore peered at Ron over the edges of his half-moon spectacles, "You are unusually skilled at making these plans and accounting for details."

"Haven't been sleeping much, it leaves a lot of time to think." He paused, "Speaking of, do you have the potion?"

Dumbledore nodded, but looked troubled. "Severus will be bringing you a supply of dreamless sleep, but I must once again council against this. You must let yourself grieve. The loss of..."

He was cut off by a very adamant Ron. "I don't need to grieve, I need to sleep. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can find a way to get them back."

"Ronald." Dumbledore entreated.

"No. That was the deal." Ron stood. Glancing down at the map he said, "Snape's still in the dungeon. I'll go get the potions from him." He had wanted to speak to the headmaster about the ring and the final task, but it seemed like Dumbledore was intent on talking to him about Harriett and Hermione. It was time to leave.

Dumbledore once again looked saddened by Ron's behaviour, but acquiesced "Very well. However I hope this will put an end to your nighttime excursions to the kitchens."

Ron flushed with embarrassment and tried not to look like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Of course Dumbledore would have found out about the cooking sherry.

Several hours later, in a classroom on the other side of the castle:

Harry, Hermione, and Ginny watched the scene silently. Harry's omnioculars hovered over a large sheet of white parchment. Hermione had managed to charm them so they projected the scene they were replaying onto the desk. The instant replay function of the device had captured the pictures and sounds of Ron's meeting in crystal clarity.


	5. What's Wrong With Ron?

A usual I own nothing, and thanks again to my beta reader Caitlin.

Also thanks to all those who reviewed, even just to point out a silly typo. I do try to catch them on revision, but I always miss a few.

Unknown to Ron

The plan had been a group effort. It had been Harry's idea to send Dobby up to the headmaster's office to spy on the meeting. Elves did not show up on the Maurauders' Map, making them perfect for the job. It was Hermione's idea to use the omnioculars to record the meeting. Dobby hadn't been happy about listening in on one of the headmaster's private conversations. Normally elves were bound both mystically and culturally to keep their master's secrets. However, Dobby was a free elf and his alliance would always be to Harry above and beyond all other wizards.

When the scene ended there was a long silence. It was broken by Ginny. "What in Merlin's name was that?" After overhearing the plans to spy on Ron's next meeting with Dumbledore, she had insisted on being a part of it. She was just as confused by her brother's behaviour as Harry and Hermione.

Hermione shook her head; more confused than before. Ever since Ron's first meeting with the headmaster he had been acting strangely. He had quickly made up with Harry, but now there was always a jumpiness about him. Everything he did seemed rehearsed. Whether it was complaining about Snape's potions assignments, or getting angry at the twins for slipping him a canary cream. At first she and Harry had been too worried about the first task to pay it much attention, but with that over, they had time to realize that something was going on with Ron. The meeting had confirmed it. "Why was Dumbledore letting Ron speak to him like that?" she asked.

Harry nodded; that was one of many unsettling aspects of that meeting. Dumbledore may have been a bit odd, but he would never allow a student to talk to him the way Ron did. However the headmaster hadn't batted an eye at Ron's crude language. Harry looked at Hermione, remembering something from the conversation. "You thought Dumbledore was buggering Ron?"

Hermione blushed and threw her hands up, "I didn't know what to think. I was worried about him." She looked both embarrassed and upset. "I found him crying in your dormitory. What was I supposed to think?"

Ginny put an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "At least he sounded glad that you were looking out for him."

Hermione nodded, and Harry asked, "Why was he crying?" That did not sound like Ron at all.

Hermione sniffed, "Right after the challenge. Everyone was celebrating, I found Ron alone in your room. He wouldn't tell me what was bothering him." She shook off the tears and focused on the scene they had just watched. "You heard what Dumbledore said about how Ron should grieve. Have any of your relatives passed away recently?" she asked Ginny.

"Not that I can remember." Ginny shook her head.

"What do you think he meant about bringing them back?" Harry asked. "It almost sounded like they were dead. Do you think they meant to bring them back to life?"

Hermione shook her head, "Something like that would be very very dark magic, the kind the dark lord would use. Dumbledore would never go near it."

"And what was that business about the cup? Do you think they meant the Triwizard Cup? It sounds like they were planning a break in at Gringotts. Maybe even Voldemort's vault. You heard them mention Riddle."

Hermione nodded, forehead crinkled in thought. "I'm more worried about what Ron said about Mr. Crouch. It's possible that he was the one who put your name into the Goblet of Fire?"

Harry shrugged, "Don't know, but it sounded like Ron didn't want us to tip him off that we knew. Maybe Dumbledore is going to set a trap for him?"

They debated what they saw for a long time until they had to admit that they were getting nowhere. They needed more information. Still they now knew more than before. Hermione made a list of things she needed to research including Occlumency, the spell Preservas Veritas, and any mystical cups that would warrant Dumbledore's interest. Ginny would write home and attempt to find out if any family members had passed away or been admitted to St. Mungos. Harry would do talk to Dobby and see if the elf had heard anything else about Ron's strange behaviour.

The only thing that the three knew for sure was that listening in on Ron and Dumbledore's meeting had raised many questions and answered none.

The weeks passed and Harry didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when there was no news in the Monday Daily Prophet about a daring bank heist. He was certain he had caught Ron glancing up at the faculty's table repeatedly that morning. Ron visibly relaxed when Dumbledore gave a slight nod towards the Griffindor table.

Despite Ron's strange behaviour, Harry was glad to have his friend back after the months of angry separation. While this new Ron was different, quieter than before their fight, he was still Ron. He was always up for a game of wizarding chess, or a fly around Hogwarts' freezing grounds.

Still there were other changes. His overall behaviour felt forced. Nowhere was this more evident than in the defence class. Every time Ron entered the room he looked like he was heading to his execution. All the students were scared of Mad Eye Moody, but Ron wouldn't even make eye contact. Often going whole lectures without raising his eyes from his notebook. The practical exercises were worse, it was almost like Ron was trying to perform badly! He even skived off class when Moody was running drills on the Imperius curse.

Perhaps most disconcerting of all however, was the fact that he no longer argued with the Slytherins. Whenever Draco or Pansy made snide comments, Ron simply ignored them. Draco seemed to take the behaviour as a personal insult. For some time Draco tried increasing the level of antagonism of his jabs, but Ron refused to rise to the bait. It was disconcerting seeing Ron hold in his temper. Ron was many things, but he had never possessed much self-control.

After a week, most Slytherins had grown bored with the game and started picking on other targets. Draco was the one exception. The more Ron ignored Draco, the more the Slytherin taunted him. It was a new type of rivalry; who would break first. Ginny had overheard Fred and George taking bets on the date and time.

Harry couldn't guess who would give up first; the rivalry could have gone on for weeks if Ginny hadn't been dragged into things. That Saturday had started off well enough. The weather was beautiful and the twins managed to rouse a few Griffindors for a game of quidditch. There weren't enough Griffindors for a full game so Harry, Ron, and Ginny were making a detour to the great hall to see if any students from the other houses were interested.

Draco and his body guards Crabbe and Goyle were outside the hall; no professors were in sight. It was all the excuse Draco needed to needle his rival. "If it isn't Potter and his weaselly little side-kicks. Hoping some of his fame rubs off on you, Weasley?" The body guards sniggered.

As usual Ron ignored him. "Sod off Malfoy." Harry shot back.

Draco laughed, "Standing up for your boyfriend Potter?"

Ginny was the one who answered, "Jealous Malfoy? Half the school already thinks you fancy Ron and don't know how to ask him out." Harry couldn't help but laugh, even Ron cracked a smile.

Draco turned pink with anger. Drawing his wand he shouted, "You take that back you little..."

The Malfoy heir didn't get a chance to finish his sentence before his wand was wrenched from his hand by a wordless spell from Ron. Draco watched it clatter across the stone floor, momentarily frozen in surprise. Before he managed gather his wits, a flick of Ron's wand pinned Malfoy to the wall of the corridor. Harry was about to laugh, congratulate Ron on disarming Draco, but the expression on his friend's face stopped him cold.

Harry had seen Ron angry many times, he was always red faced and full of bluster. That wasn't the case this time. He was pale, so white his freckles stood out in sharp contrast. He was blank. Harry was actually scared, it looked like the boy was going to kill someone. Even Crabbe and Goyle gave him a wide berth rather than help Draco.

Then Ron's wand was at Draco's throat. He hissed his next spell through clenched teeth, "Tourniquess." Harry wasn't familiar with the curse Ron was using, but Draco was suddenly gasping as though an invisible cord were constricting around his beck. Ron's words were quiet, but in the silence of the corridor they were clear as a bell. "You have a problem with me, fine, but if you ever draw a wand on my sister again I will kill you, you little shit. Do you understand?"

Draco's eyes were wide and panicked, but he managed a jerky nod. Ron stepped back and the spell that was holding Draco up faded away, leaving the boy to slump against the base of the wall. Crabbe managed to help him up and the three scuttled away. Ron watched them go.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked.

Ron spun and faced his sister. Grabbing her shoulders he said, "Promise me you'll tell me if any of them come after you."

Despite having been frightened by Ron's behaviour Ginny was defiant. Ever indignant at being thought of as the delicate little sister she said, "I can take care of myself."

Ron shook her as though trying to force sense into her, "Promise me Ginny."

Ginny's eyes widened, as fear crept into her expression, "Ron..."

Harry stepped in, "Calm down mate, you're hurting her." He kept his tone low and calm, afraid of setting Ron off. He had never seen his friend act this way and he didn't know what he might do next.

Ron released her as though she had burnt him. He looked down at his hands, disgust twisting his features. "No," he was shaking his head , "not again, not this time." He looked around frantically like a trapped animal. Without another word he bolted down the corridor.

Both Harry and Ginny were too stunned to follow immediately. Ginny absently rubbed her hand over the spot Ron had grabbed her. "What's wrong with him Harry?"

Harry was at a loss. "I don't know."

They had tried to follow him, but with his head start they soon lost him in the twisting corridors of the castle. Harry summoned the Marauders' Map, but it only showed Ron pacing back and forth in a seventh floor corridor, his name disappeared before they could get to him. When they made it to the hallway, they found it empty.

No one saw Ron for the rest of the day. He showed up after supper and apologized to Ginny, but adamantly refused to explain himself. Instead he sat in the corner of the common room and glared at the fire.

Harry, Ginny, and Hermione had discussed the episode, but all they could do was resolve to send Dobby to spy on Ron's next meeting with Dumbledore.

There were other strange occurrences that, while smaller than the fight with Draco, added up. For example, on the rare occasions Ron crossed paths with Fleur Delacour she actually nodded hello to him. More surprising, Ron didn't trip over his own feet when he saw her. Merely gave her a friendly smile or maybe a wave. The change was dramatic, considering how awkward he used to be in her presence.

Hermione was spending hours in the library looking up the various leads the Omniocular recording had provided. The cup seemed to be a dead end. However, the spells mentioned had been easier to research. Occlumency was a method wizards used to hide their thoughts. Preservas Veritas was the incantation of a spell used to extract memories and put them in a pensieve for others to view. Why did Ron need so many mental spells?

As Christmas approached, Harry found himself confronted by a far greater challenge than the mystery of Ron: asking Cho Chang to the Yule ball. Hermione had admitted that she had already been asked though refused to tell anyone other than Ginny who it was. Harry had the distinct impression Ron knew exactly who was taking Hermione, at least he hadn't been surprised when she admitted to already having been asked.

Ron was no help on the Cho front. He just kept telling Harry to get it over with before someone else could ask her. Easier said than done, Ron seemed quite content to go stag. He didn't have to open the ball with a dance.

The realization that Cho was going with his now archenemy Cedric Digory hit Harry like a bludger to the chest. He had begun to feel desperate. The available women were becoming very scarce. Even Ginny was taken! Eventually he managed to get Pavarti to come with him to the dance. He had offered to help Ron get a date with Padma, but his friend had refused.

The only preparation Ron made for the ball were some fairly extensive alterations to the dress robes Mrs. Weasley had bought him. He managed to remove nearly all signs of lace, and even changed their colour from red to a more somber black. The robes were still moth eaten, but didn't look quite as ridiculous as they had originally.

The day of the ball, Ron was in a genuinely good mood. It was odd; he was more cheerful than Harry had seen him since before the start of the Triwizard Cup. Apart from seeing Cho in Cedric's arms, the night had gone fairly well. Ron even grinned widely when Hermione came in on Krum's arm, smiling toothily at the room. It was then that Harry realized Hermione was the reason for Ron's mood. He seemed genuinely happy watching her and Krum dance. Midway through the evening she had come over to the table where Harry and Ron were seated, cheeks pink from exertion.

Even Krum was less surly than usual. "You look really nice tonight Hermione," Ron complimented. Harry was surprised by how sincere Ron sounded.

He frowned; the way Ron was acting didn't fit with the boy he had known. Harry's thoughts were drawn away from the dance to the meeting with Dumbledore. The simple truth was that Dumbledore hadn't treated Ron as a student, but as an adult. Hermione's theory was that Ron was taking some kind of emotional maturation potion so he could fulfil a mission for Dumbledore, perhaps to find out who had put Harry's name into the goblet. The symptoms fit better than any of their other theories, apparently depression was a common side effect of most of these potions. It explained why Ron had been found crying alone in his bunk.

Once Hermione had returned to the dance floor, Harry leaned over to Ron and asked, "Hey Ron, why didn't you ask Hermione to the dance when you had the chance?" He had always thought that Ron might have fancied her, even if his friend couldn't admit it to himself.

Ron, absorbed in the watching Krum twirl their friend around answered absently. "Wouldn't have been appropriate."

"What?" Harry asked. The response made no sense.

Ron stiffened, realizing he had said something he shouldn't have, "Oh, I mean since we're just mates and all. Better she go with someone she fancies. Right?"

Harry glared back and snapped, "If you don't want to tell the truth, just stay quiet." If Ron was going to lie to him he could at least be considerate enough not to be so obvious about it.

Ron shrugged helplessly. He had the decency to look contrite, "I'll tell you the truth as soon as I can, summer at the latest."

Harry glared out at the dance floor, "Fine." Eventually he and Hermione would figure out what Ron was up to whether or not he came clean on his own.


	6. Panic

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Warning**: There is some violence in this chapter.

**Thanks**:Thanks to Caitlin for edits and reviewers for reviews.

**Apology**: What can I say? Research is a harsh mistress, taking time away from my fanfic. Sorry. I hope this is worth the wait.

* * *

><p><span>Panic<span>

Christmas was a strange affair for Ron. Despite a distinct lack of funds, he had wanted to get real gifts for his friends and family. There were any number of schemes he could have employed, including pinching Hagrid's collection of unicorn hair. He clearly remembered how much Harry had said Slughorn valued the stuff. At sixteen he had been so obsessed with idea of being wealthy, that he fantasized about sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest and filling his pockets with the rare magical ingredients. Only the Horcrux hunt and the presence of giant spiders had stopped him.

Unfortunately, he couldn't take advantage of such a juicy potential windfall. Even if he could squash the guilty feelings of taking advantage of Hagrid; a poor fourth year student suddenly possessing enough money to lavish his family with gifts was too suspicious. Anything that drew attention to himself could tip off Crouch and ruin the plan. For that reason more than anything else he would have to remain poor.

He was glad that none of the teachers had seen him threaten Draco's life, or seen him doing the spells non-verbally. He felt like such an idiot; how could he have lost it like that? Draco was just a kid - a spoiled bigot yes, but still a kid. He couldn't believe he had threatened to kill the boy. What the hell was wrong with him?

It was difficult for Ron to sort out his muddled memories and emotions of the event. When he had seen the wand on Ginny, nothing else had mattered. All he could think of was her broken body ten years in the future. It would have been so easy to slip and tighten the tourniquet on Draco's neck to the point of actually killing him.

After the incident, Ron had hidden in the room of requirement for hours, coming to terms with his violent response. It had been years since he had suffered a lapse like that. It was usually Hermione or Bill who would talk him down. Hermione always said the reaction was well known in muggle circles. She had called it PSTD. Ron wasn't an idiot. He knew that going under cover was making things worse. It didn't change the fact that he needed to get a handle on it, needed to stay in control.

As it stood he took what meagre funds he had and put them towards a few gifts. He even shrank an old sweater down to fit Dobby. The house elf's thanks had been enthusiastic, though his eyes kept seeking out Harry before coming back to Ron's gift. It was strange almost guilty behaviour, but no more unusual than the elf's usual mannerisms.

Ron opened his presents with enthusiasm that was only slightly exaggerated. He loved Christmas, he always had. He savoured the familiar routine. While the other boys in his dormitory got ready for Christmas breakfast, Ron lay back on his bed and stared up at the canopy. He found himself remembering his and Hermione's earlier holidays. He was pretty sure it was over Christmas that he had realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his closest friend.

He, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny had been hiding in a muggle home for the holidays a few years after the Hogwarts battle. The house had a well stocked pantry and the fugitives had made good use of it. Ron couldn't remember any of the conversation that night, or even what they had eaten. However, one memory was still crystal clear, it was of him and Hermione curled up on one of couches. Hermione had conjured a floating ball of fire that filled the room with soothing warmth and the slight smell of wood smoke.

Ginny and Neville had taken over one of the upstairs bedrooms leaving Hermione and Ron alone on the first floor. Hermione had fallen asleep and Ron watched her steady breathing. Her face so much less troubled than it was while she was awake. Of course he knew that he loved her before that, but seeing her sleep was the first time he realized that he couldn't picture spending his life with anyone else.

Over the years there had been many things that had tried to pull them apart. Ginny's death, the sleepless nights after Harriett was first born, an Arithmacy apprentice who had spent a few months working with Hermione's curse breaking team (she had once moaned his name instead of Ron's). Hermione swore nothing had actually happened between the two of them and Ron was eventually able to believe her. Still, their marriage had lasted and Ron still believed, as strongly as he had that Christmas, that they would spend the rest of their lives together. Part of him was beginning to realize that he had been right, they had been together until death took her from him.

Ron got out of bed wearily, his previous enthusiasm gone. Merry Christmas indeed.

The first day of the term started with the news of Hagrid's gigantic secret being revealed in a Rita Skeeter exposé. Ron was kicking himself for not remembering that piece of history. He could have spared the half-giant some heartbreak.

Ron knew things would eventually work out for Hagrid in the end, but he couldn't help wondering what else he had forgotten. Instead of dwelling on his failure he focused on the plan for the second to last Horcrux. The ring; the ring that had cost Dumbledore his life. Despite viewing Snape's memories in a pensieve, he did not know whether the headmaster had put the ring on because he desired the Hallow or because he needed to wear it to free it from the Gaunt shack.

Dumbledore had admitted that either was possible. As a precaution Ron would show Snape the memories he had given Harry at the time of his death. Hopefully there would be enough clues to the curse on the ring that Snape would be able to create an antidote.

Wednesday morning, Ron received an owl with a simple message from his mother wishing him a good start to the term. At first he had felt conflicted by the caring gesture; his mother hadn't sent him a real Christmas card since Ginny. His ambivalence only lasted until the words rearranged themselves into the message, "Please receive a Potions detention." The note was not signed. Ron glanced at the head table and Dumbledore inclined his head slightly in Ron's direction.

Getting a meeting with Snape was simple enough. After Harry handed in their potion at the end of class, Ron 'accidentally' spilled their cauldron full of mucus coloured goop onto the floor. It pooled around the base of one of the wooden lab stools and then began to climb up the legs like sentient porridge. The room was filled with the reek of sulphur fumes.

Snape looked up and glared at Ron. His words were in a cold drawl. "Perhaps you can tell me why you are barging around like a rampaging hippogriff when I warned you of the acidic nature of this potion."

With false anger Ron answered, "S'not like I did it on purpose!" He then muttered under his breath, "I'm surprised you can even smell it over your own stench." Snape's glare intensified, and Ron realized that Dumbledore may not have told the potions master that Ron would be seeking a detention.

Several hours later Ron's ears were still ringing from the tirade Snape had unleashed on the Griffindor students because of Ron's insolent remarks. Still it had served its purpose and Ron was able to report for detention without raising anyone's suspicions. Hermione had been visibly upset with him, however she did not push the issue. It was so out of character for her that Ron had to wonder if she suspected something. This was of course impossible as he, Dumbledore, and Snape had been impeccably careful about avoiding any more suspicious behaviour.

Ron knocked on the door to the dungeon potions lab. Snape's voice carried into to hall, "Enter."

Snape was seated at his desk going over the student's scrolls. Ron made sure to shut the door tightly behind him, "Albus said we needed to meet?"

Snape nodded, "Indeed, he believes you hold in your mind the key to a cure for the ring's curse. I must say I am not nearly so optimistic; your recent attempts at potioneering leave me to wonder if there is anything of use in there." As usual Snape's voice held nothing more than contempt.

Ron wondered how much of Snape's attitude was put on, and how much was due to his inability to interact with people. Of all the memories he had given to Harry, the one that stood out sharpest weren't those meant to show Harry that he needed to die. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, it was Snape's defence of Hermione when Phineas Black had referred to her as a mud blood. That one interaction stuck out more than Snape's confessions of love of Lily Potter, or his explanation of the inevitability of Harry's martyrdom.

That, above his years as a loyal spy, was why Ron trusted the man.

Ron made his way into the classroom and leaned against the front row of desks, facing the professor. It made sense that Dumbledore would want Snape to have a look at the memories of future-Snape treating the curse. "Right, so where's the pensieve?"

Snape scoffed. "It is in Dumbledore's office - I do not need a crutch to examine your mind."

Understanding shot through Ron like an electric shock. He raised his hand in defence, not even thinking to go for his wand. He didn't even have the composure to turn his eyes from Snape. The potions master didn't need his wand; he was inside Ron's mind instantly.

The paltry defence Ron mounted wasn't even able to slow Snape down. In seconds he was flipping through Ron's memories like a photo album. Ron couldn't even watch the images through his crippling panic. He was vaguely aware of Snape's taunting voice, "Honestly Weasley, calm down. I am not going to peek at any of your adolescent infatuations."

Ron's mind was blank except for the scenes of Snape treating Dumbledore's curse. When the memory reached its end Snape replayed it. Dumbledore sagging in the chair behind his desk, barely conscious, Snape explaining how the curse would only grow stronger in time. Ron tried to wrestle his mind back under his own control, the scene wavered, but Snape steadied the image as one would stay the rocking of a small moored boat.

It was no good. Ron was helpless, trapped in his own mind, panicked, not even able to control his own thoughts. It was as bad as the imperius curse.

The memory came suddenly - it overwhelmed the scene Snape was viewing. Ron was on top of Ginny, his fists crashing down on her face. Her hands no longer trying to defend herself, motions no longer controlled, feebly batting at Ron's blows. Ron was blind to her pain, blind to the pain in his broken hands. He was floating in a euphoric cloud, all the while the voices whispered, "Good job. You're doing so well. Keep hitting it. I'm so proud of you."

Snape was no longer fighting for control of Ron's mind. He was as helpless as Ron to stop the scene. It didn't last much longer - when the Death Eaters lifted the curse, Ron could do nothing but stare at what he had done. They left Ron curled in a ball on the floor surrounded by a pool of blood and vomit, as their laughter echoed through Ron's head.

Snape was out of Ron's mind. The potions master slumped against his desk, his face a pallid shade of grey. Ron scuttled away from him. He didn't care that he was a grown man and that he shouldn't be scared of a bully like Snape. He just needed to get away. It wasn't the memory that made him act this way; he had come to terms with the horrors of his past years ago. It was the legilimency, the lack of control of his own thoughts. The ability to make him do those things.

Ron's entire body was shaking. Snape tried to approach him, but Ron shrank away. He was surprised when his back hit a wall of cabinets. He had somehow scuttled to the opposite end of the room. "Weasley..."

"St-Stay away from me." Ron stuttered. His voice cracking.

Snape froze in his advance. He looked from Ron, to his own shaking hands and back, his eyes wide and scared. Ron wondered how real the scene had been for Snape? Had he felt her nose break? The potions master seemed to be at a loss on how to proceed. He finally spoke. "I shall fetch the headmaster." He left the room in a flurry of robes.

As the sound of Snape's steps faded, Ron got to his feet. He always panicked like this when others tried getting into his mind. It was worse than his phobia of spiders as a child. Even Hermione, who tried to teach him the basics of occlumency after Ginny, had left him shaking on the floor. At least she had asked before trying, and she had been far less forceful than Snape.

Ron stumbled towards the door to the potions stores; he knew what he needed. The door was locked, but that didn't matter. There were any number of spells for getting through tricky mystical locks, though Ron didn't bother with them. Instead, he choose to blast the door off its hinges.

He ignored the scattered potions ingredients, instead heading to the cabinet at the far end of the room where Snape kept the supply of medi-potions. He pulled open the glass case. There was dreamless sleep, organ mending elixirs and dozens of other concoctions; however, Ron settled on a small clear blue potion.

Even without a label, Ron knew it by colour. 'Draught of Eternal Calm' Ron had taken it for years after Ginny, until Hermione had given him the ultimatum. Her or the potion. She had helped him flush his supply down the loo.

The potion took away all those pesky emotions, Ron had considered sneaking some since he had arrived in this time. The only thing staying his hand was that he hadn't wanted to lose the good with the bad. He didn't want to lose his love for his wife and daughter.

That didn't matter now, he couldn't face it; the panic, the grief, the anger, the fear. He unstopped the bottle and found a measuring spoon. If he had been in his right mind he may have realized that the dose for a hundred and twenty pound boy was different than for a hundred and eighty pound man who had been using for years. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe he would have taken the dose anyway. As it was, Dumbledore and Snape found Ron on the floor of the potions lab, staring at the ceiling without blinking. Still conscious, but too apathetic to even look at the two professors.

As soon as Dumbledore saw the boy's prone form he said, "Call Popey."

* * *

><p><strong>Harry's POV<strong>

Harry returned to the dorms late, golden egg clutched in his arms. He had been planing on spending the evening playing a game of chess with Ron, or maybe working on his transfiguration essay with Hermione. These plans were ruined when Ron received a detention and Hermione found out that Harry still didn't know what the egg meant.

He did the only thing he could: swallowing his pride, he took Cedric's hint. He had worked out the clue with Myrtle's help, but was almost wishing he hadn't. He had no idea what spells would let him breathe under water. He would have to enlist Hermione's help in the morning; if anyone could find a spell, it was her.

That was his plan, it ended seconds after he entered the common room. As soon as the portrait closed behind him an uncertain voice whispered, "Harry?" The boy's eyes were wide, he looked scared.

Harry jumped when he saw Neville peering in Harry's general direction. Slipping off his invisibility cloak he asked, "What's the matter Neville?"

"It's Ron - McGonogal came and got Ginny and Hermione and hour ago. She said Ron was hurt, he's in the hospital wing. When they couldn't find you, Hermione told me to wait, that you might have your cloak." Neville said, stumbling over his words.

The bottom fell out of Harry's stomach; had Ron been hurt while on his mission for Dumbledore? If Ron died because he was trying to find the person who was after Harry... Guilt twisted his stomach. He was about to turn and run to the hospital wing when Neville stopped him, the boy hesitated before asking, "Can I come?" Harry cocked his head to the side in confusion and Neville continued nervously. "Ron's my friend. I asked him if I could ask his sister to the ball and he said she'd be lucky to go with me."

Harry couldn't say no to the worried look on Neville's face so he nodded, "I'll make sure the coast is clear."

He took out the map he had forgotten to clear on his way back to the common room and spotted Filch at the opposite end of the castle. If they hurried, their path would not cross his. The two ghosted through the halls. The light spilled out of the hospital wing, and Harry could see Ginny, Hermione and the twins around a bed.

As they entered the wing, they saw Snape and Madame Pomfrey speaking softly to one another. Snape looked paler than usual, his face was tight and closed off. He kept glancing at the bed surrounded by Griffindors. His fists were clenched tightly. He was the first to notice Harry and Neville, but said nothing. Harry wondered if the man was feeling ill.

"Harry!" Hermione said with relief. "We couldn't find you when Professor McGonagal came to get us, I would have waited for you, but I didn't want to leave him like this."

Harry ran across the room. A hundred different scenarios running through his head. What had happened to Ron? How was he injured? It was almost anticlimactic to see him lying on the bed with his eyes open, apparently unharmed.

Hermione had one of his hands in hers, and she was searching Ron's face for something. "What's wrong with him?" he asked.

Fred, who had been uncharacteristically silent, answered, "Snape told Pomfrey that the idiot tried to kill himself." His words were whispered, but angry.

George glared at his twin, "That's a load of bollocks, and you know it. Ron wouldn't do that."

Harry glanced at Hermione, both thinking of the time she had caught Ron crying alone in the dorm. "What did he do?" Harry asked.

Hermione's eyes didn't leave Ron's face, "He drank half a bottle of Draught of Eternal Calm, ten times what a person is supposed to take." Tears shone in her eyes, "Dumbledore has Professor Moody searching the castle in case someone forced Ron to take the potion while Snape was gone. Dumbledore left to get Mr. and Mrs. Weasley." There was a long pause and Hermione added. "Madam Pomfrey said it was a wonder his heart was still beating."

Harry and Neville each moved a chair to Ron's bedside. Harry next to Hermione, Neville next to Ginny. There was tense silence broken only when Hermione had to move so Pomfrey could check on Ron. Once done she said, "He is stable, there is nothing more to do but wait until the effects wear off. You had best be off to bed, he will not be waking for at least a few days." No one moved, Pomfrey sighed. "Very well, I will be in my office if anything changes."

Oddly enough Snape stayed where he had been, watching Ron's prone form. Harry noticed the man's eyes flick to Ginny several times. Harry shivered, the behaviour made him uneasy. When Snape noticed Harry's attention he snapped, "Keep your eyes to yourself, Potter" before storming out of the room. Harry didn't know what to make of the man's erratic behaviour.

It seemed to take a very long time for Dumbledore to get back to the school with Ron's parents. Eventually Hermione broke the silence, "Did you figure out the clue Harry?" She pointed at the egg he had placed under his chair. He had been in such a hurry to get to the hospital wing he hadn't put it down.

Harry shrugged, he had forgotten about the clue. "Yeah I figured it out. It says I have to go to the bottom of the lake and get something."

Hermione nodded, "When Ron's feeling better we'll have to find some spells to help you breathe under water."

-When, not if.- Harry told himself.

Conversation was awkward and stilted. They would only say something when the silence became overwhelming.

It was nearly eleven when Dumbledore arrived with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Ginny and the twins were out of their chairs and in hugging their mother the instant she came through the doors of the hospital wing. As Mrs. Weasley comforted her children, Harry noticed her tears. That was expected, though he was surprised when he saw that Mr Weasley was crying openly as well. The hug only lasted a moment as Mrs. Weasley made her way to Ron's bed.

"Oh Ron, what have you done you silly boy?" She pushed Ron's bangs out of his eyes. Even though Ron's eyes were open he did not respond to the touch. Harry would have thought he was petrified if it weren't for the fact that Ron seemed very, very relaxed. Mr. Weasley stood behind his wife, hands on her shoulders. His expression crumpled, and it occurred to Harry that he had never seen a grown man cry like this. His stomach twisted.

Ginny came to her father's side; "Is he going to be alright?" Harry wondered if she meant physically or emotionally.

Mr. Weasley looked to Dumbledore before answering. The look was not friendly. "Albus told us about the problems Ron's been having." He paused, "Your brother has been going through a bad depression sweetheart. He was ashamed, and didn't want the headmaster to tell anyone about it. Albus has been meeting with Ron, trying to help him through it." Anger leaked into his words, though it was clear he was attempting to conceal it. Anger at Dumbledore for not telling him his son was ill.

Ginny went rigid. She had realized, just as Harry and Hermione had, that Dumbledore was lying to her parents. It looked like she was about to say something, but Harry caught her eye. Later. They could confront Dumbledore later. Harry knew the headmaster would not have lied without good reason. They would confront him when the other Weasleys were not around.

The Headmaster allowed the children to stay with their friend until nearly one in the morning. He then escorted them back to the Griffindor tower, leaving the Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to watch over Ron. As Albus walked through the empty halls of Hogwarts, Neville came alongside Harry and whispered, "There's a plant mentioned in that book Moody lent me. It's called Gillyweed. I think it can help you with the second task."

Harry nodded. "Thanks," he whispered in response, his mind on other things.

When they arrived at the portrait of the fat lady, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione hung back while the twins and Neville stepped inside. "We'll be in soon." Hermione said at the curious look the twins sent them.

Once the portrait swung closed the trio turned to face the headmaster. "You wished to speak to me?" he asked, looking completely unsurprised.

He was watching Harry in a way that seemed to peer into his soul. Harry was about to speak when Hermione beat him to it. "You lied to the Weasleys." She accused.

Dumbledore shook his head, "I am sorry Miss Granger. I realize that it is difficult to hear, however Ronald has a great many personal demons plaguing him."

Hermione shook her head, "No, I mean you didn't tell them about the mission you've given Ron." She hesitated, knowing the next admission would land her in trouble, "We know about the cup you destroyed in Gringots."

Dumbledore's demeanour changed in an instant. His eyes sharpened, he bent down and seemed to pin Hermione to the spot using only his piercing blue eyes. After a moment he looked to Harry and then Ginny. In a voice devoid of its usual humour he said. "I do not know how you found out about the mission, but I must insist you make no mention of it again. The fate of the wizarding world depends on you saying nothing of what you believe you know."

"You must not discuss it, even when you think you are alone. You must not attempt to figure it out. Focus on your school, and your tasks in the tournament, treat Ronald as though nothing is out of the ordinary. He has promised to give you answers by summer, and if we complete our task, he will do so. Please Harry, Hermione, Ginevra, place your trust in your friend. Many lives depend on it."

Stunned by the headmaster's plea, Hermione could only nod.

Harry, however felt slighted. What had Ron done to deserve this level of trust from Dumbledore? Hadn't Harry shown that he was capable of taking care of himself? "Why Ron? Why did you trust him with this?"

Albus gave the hint of a smile. "You misunderstand Harry. This is Ronald's mission; it was he who trusted me to help him." The headmaster hesitated before holding out his hand, "The map, Harry."

Harry felt a growing urge to rebel. The headmaster was giving them nothing, and was demanding so much trust; he was even taking away the map his father had helped create. Seeing his anger Albus sighed, "I give you my word that it shall be returned to you by the end of the year." Harry didn't meet Albus' eyes as he handed over the tattered piece of parchment. "I realize the task I have asked of you is difficult; it is often far easier to run charging into battle than to wait at the side for the proper moment, but that is what must happen. I promise you Harry, if you are patient, the answers will come." The headmaster gave a slight bow before leaving them at the portrait. It was in grim silence that the three Griffindors went up to their respective dorms for the night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong>This was a hard chapter to write. I have to admit the idea of Ron not being able to fight off the imperius was the real seed of this story. All too often in fanfiction the protagonist has the iron will of Conan the Barbarian. I like the idea of one with a very human weakness. Who better than Ron fits that role in HP cannon.


	7. Recovery Time

**Disclaimer:**I don't own these characters.

**Author's Note:**Sorry it took so long between updates, research has been hell. On the plus side this after this chapter I'll be easing off on Ron's angst. It feels like he could use a break, maybe have some fun with his friends.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter7:Recovery Time<strong>

Ron's recovery took days. At first he lay on his hospital cot staring at absolutely nothing. His mind was clear; he could think, but he couldn't care. Each evening his parents visited and his mother would ask how he could do something so foolish.

He knew he should feel bad for putting her through this, but he didn't. He wondered how badly he would have felt even without the potion's effects. He could count on two hands the number of times he had spoken to her in the past decade. They had met briefly at the birth of Bill's youngest. That was three years ago.

Like his father, she had never been able to forgive him for Ginny. Ginny who had been strong enough to fight off the imperious curse, Ron who hadn't. Hermione managed to get them to visit at Harry's birth, though the reunion was tense. Ron dwelt on the memory, curious. Even thoughts of his daughter weren't enough to pull him from his calm.

The people around him called it a suicide attempt. That wasn't right, was it? Even with the clarity he now held he wasn't sure. It was true that he had wanted an escape; at the time he wouldn't have been picky about whether it came from a potion or death. Once again, his train of thought should have scared him rather than leave him empty.

One thing he could not deny was that he was more messed up than he had thought. There was no escaping the fact that he was going to be forced to deal with his issues once the potion wore off. He doubted Dumbledore would trust a complete nutter with the quest to kill Nagini.

This meant Ron confronting his demons, or at least getting his hands on a steady supply of the potion. A sliver of humour shot through his mind. He doubted that would be happening; Dumbledore and Snape would keep those draughts locked up tighter than their many secrets. At the moment this didn't bother him, but he knew the withdrawal would be bad.

Harry snuck in to see him late the second night. The boy slipped off his invisibility cloak when he was next to Ron's cot. The action was enough to rouse Ron. The only source of light was the glow of the moon filtering in through the hospital wing's windows, but it was enough for Ron to make out Harry's face. It was easy to tell that the boy had had a hard couple of days. The deep circles under Harry's eyes testified to a lack of sleep.

Harry didn't seem to notice Ron's attention. He talked without expecting an answer; he was like a man visiting a cemetery. "Hermione says you can understand me. I guess that means you're gonna be all right mate. She said that the potion will wear off and that you'll wake up soon."

The boy shook his head, "Why'd you do it? Is it because of the Triwizard Cup?" He ran his hand through his hair, making it stick on end. "You know I don't want to be famous. You know I just want to be normal."

Ron returned his stare to the ceiling. He already knew all this. His jealousy of Harry's fame had ended when Harry let Voldemort burn him to death. "Back when we weren't speaking, Hermione kept saying that you just wanted to feel special. That you were jealous of your brothers, jealous of me."

Harry leaned forward and whispered. "Is that why you went to Dumbledore with your plan? He wouldn't tell us what it was, but he said it was important."

Grabbing Ron's shoulder, Harry spoke urgently, "You don't need to do this alone. Hermione says the emotional maturation potion's side effects will wear off in a week if you stop taking it and then you won't be depressed any more. We can help you."

Ron wasn't sure what Harry was talking about. He and Hermione had probably taken his behaviour and pieced together some kind of theory about a nefarious plot. It sounded as though they were a safe distance from the truth. They had probably already found a way of blaming it on Snape or Death Eater conspiracies. If Ron remembered correctly, those were always popular scapegoats when something went wrong at Hogwarts.

Harry had lapsed into silence. He seemed to be struggling with his next words, "Look mate, I know you have five brothers and all, but you're the only one I've got. I don't want to lose you."

There was a hollowness in Ron's chest that felt suspiciously like guilt. Harry didn't stay long after his admission. Ron drifted off to sleep, his conscience clear; there was reason he had become addicted to this potion.

By the next morning he was already starting to recover. Emotions were muted, but he could sit up and talk. Popey had him drinking nutritional supplements meant to replace the meals he had skipped. His parents were going to visit again and he realized that it was probably a good thing the potion was still mostly in effect.

It was nearing lunch when his mother and father flooed into hospital wing. In the back of his mind, Ron noted that Moody would be with the sixth years' defence class. The constant awareness of Moody's schedule was another indication that the potions' effects were weakening.

His mother came through first; she was halfway across the hospital wing by the time his father fell out of the fireplace. Even in his emotionless haze, it was difficult to reconcile the two versions of his parents. While clearly upset, his mother's expression didn't hold the grief and accusation he had become accustomed to.

His father was an even greater contrast. After Ginny, the man hadn't even tried to hide his antipathy. The normally warm and enthusiastic man had constructed an aloof wall between himself and his son. Rather than crumbling over time, the barrier had only grown stronger, fortified by missed holidays and angry words. That was gone now. All Ron could see in the man's face was relief and concern.

Ron had even money on his mother berating him for his stupidity or overwhelming him with motherly concern. It was difficult for him to decide which he would find more awkward. He wished the years of resentment could be forgotten as though they had never been - but that just wasn't possible. Not for

Ron. To his great surprise, Molly did not choose one extreme or the other.

She wasn't angry, but she didn't bundle him into a stifling hug either. Instead she gently flattened out his sleep tussled hair and muttered, "Oh Ron, you silly silly boy."

Ron stared up at her, suddenly too weary, to sit himself up in bed. He cleared his throat and muttered, "Sorry."

By this time his father had joined them. Up close Ron could see how tired the man in front of him was. While Ron was used to a much older version of his parents, the man in front of him should not have looked quite so old quite so soon. He must have taken Ron's reported suicide attempt far harder than expected. Something like guilt wormed its way through the artificial calm.

Arthur shook his head. "Why would you do this?" He looked so lost, so hurt by Ron's actions that more guilt found a home in his damaged psyche. Along with the guilt came anger. Why were they so concerned now? Why not ten years from now when he had really needed them?

The emotions faded before he could speak and he was once again thankful for the clarity. It wouldn't do to start ranting about slights and arguments that would probably never happen. Instead he focused on repeating what he had told Madame Pomfrey. "I wasn't trying to hurt myself dad. I just wanted a little time to relax."

Arthur looked sceptical, but his mother seemed to accept the statement. Ron supposed it was easier than the alternative. With a small tap of her wand on his cot, the bed rearranged itself, forcing Ron to a sitting position. She then sat and took his hand tightly in her own. "Why didn't you tell us you were so unhappy? We could have helped."

Ron couldn't meet her eyes, instead he focused on his stocking-covered feet where they poked out at the end of his blanket. He studied his large toenail where it poked out through a hole in the material as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world. It took a while for Ron to find the words he needed to answer. "It's been a hard year, but Dumbledore has been helping me. When things get too bad I go and talk to him." It was a lie of course, he had rebuffed the headmaster's attempts at consolation again and again, but he wasn't about to tell his parents that.

"Please son, if something like this happens again, talk to him, or Percy, or your sister, even the twins."

His father looked at him with so much desperation that Ron could only nod.

His parents didn't stay much longer. Ron gradually lost what little motivation he had for speaking and only felt the smallest stirrings of guilt as his parents bid him a teary goodbye.

* * *

><p>Returning to class was a strange affair; the potion had worn off a day ago and Ron was feeling more like himself (not that being himself was particularly pleasant). Dumbledore had set up a meeting for that very evening. If there was a silver lining to the entire debacle, it was that his meetings with the headmaster could be disguised as counselling sessions.<p>

Harry and Hermione were both upset with him. He had tried to explain that he hadn't been trying to kill himself, only wanted a break, but he didn't think they believed him - not completely, anyway. Harry was by far the easier of the two to deal with. He was worried about Ron, and it was fairly obvious that he felt guilty about what had happened. Fortunately they both acted like the boys they were and ignored Harry's midnight visit as though it had never happened.

Why Harry felt so guilty, Ron had no idea. However, he had seen the emotion enough times in the mirror to identify it on Harry's face. Ron felt like shit for putting Harry through that, but Hermione made him feel a hundred times worse. She was just so cold; it was the same reaction she had had the first time he had taken too much of the stuff. It was almost funny how some things about a person just didn't change, even after twenty years.

That overdose had been a genuine accident, as had the last she had helped him deal with. Something must have distracted him while mixing his morning tea because one sip of a drink that should have numbed the edges of his guilt had left him barely conscious. One minute he was taking a sip of scalding tea, the next his head was spinning and he had lain down on the kitchen floor.

Hermione had made sure that he was alive. After a few diagnostic spell she realized what was wrong and managed to calm herself down. She knew that he would recover. She even called his boss and told him that Ron was sick. She had lied for him, knowing they would fire him if they knew the truth.

By the next day the draught passed through his system. The first clear emotion he felt was a growing sense of worry. Hermione hadn't come to bed the night before, and he had no clue where she was. His worry turned into panic when he was unable to find her. She wasn't at work, and she wasn't answering the cell phone she kept for her parents and muggle friends. In the end he had needed Dumbledore's deluminator to locate her. The tiny glowing flame of the device lead him down the street from their flat to a muggle park.

She was sitting on the ground at the base of a monument to some muggle general. She turned to face him as he came around the edge of the statue. After realizing it was him, her hand eased away from the wand hidden in her sleeve. They had been out of the fight for almost two years, but they hadn't let go of the paranoia. She smiled bitterly when she recognized the silver deluminator in his hand, "I should have remembered that you could use that to find me."

Ron felt his chest tighten. He didn't think she had ever sounded so disappointed to see him. "You know I didn't take that much on purpose," he answered defensively, referring to the potion.

Hermione shook her head and turned away from him. Her arms were wrapped around her midsection. This was all wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to call him a foolish prat, they would argue, and then they would make up. It was how they worked. It was _why_ they worked: they challenged each other.

Instead he stood helplessly. When she looked back to him, he realized she was crying: "You're never here."

He knelt down in front of her. He knew things were different now. Life had changed so much since they had left England. Back when they were fighting with the Order they had spent almost all their time together, but now his job as an EMW had been keeping him busy. "If this is about the double shifts, I can cut back." Ron said desperately.

Hermione shook her head and stared past him. "It's not the work Ron, it's the potion. You're never here." She reached out and tapped him lightly on the chest.

Ron backed up, panic of a different sort rising. He was ashamed to admit that it came from fear of losing his crutch. "You know I need it."

Hermione just looked more upset, "It's been over a month since we've really talked or even had a row; weeks since we've had sex."

Something cold settled over Ron. "What are you saying?" He hadn't felt this kind of dread since the war.

"Do you even still love me, or are you just here because you can't leave?"

Ron shook his head. This couldn't be happening. Hermione was the one reason he wasn't on the potion all the time. "No Hermione, I love you. You have to know that." He reached out and took her hands, peeling them away from her midsection.

He tried reading her face. Normally he could figure out her mood just by the way she held her head. Other than looking utterly miserable, her face was shuttered, Occluded. He couldn't tell if she believed him. Ron was torn; he knew he was hurting her, knew that the potion he took to deal with the memories of the dead was causing him to lose touch with the living. Even now he was desperately craving it, and it's promise to take away the guilt of hurting her.

He could feel the weight of the flask in the pocket inside his jacket - a comforting promise to take the edge off. He shook off the desire; if he went back to the potion now, he knew he would be losing Hermione. "I'll stop, I promise I'll stop."

"You've said you were going to cut back before."

He leaned in and touched her cheek, "Please Hermione, give me a chance. I won't blow it, I can't afford to."

She leaned in and rested her forehead against his, her relief palpable. "Thank you." Even now he could hear the doubt in her tone. It hurt knowing that she didn't trust him anymore, but he knew he could win it back. They left the park together hand in hand. Ron noticed that she kept bringing her free hand to her stomach.

It wasn't until he saw her eyes tracking a woman crossing the park pushing a pram that he realized what was going on. He turned back to her and said, "Bloody hell. Really?"

Hermione nodded, eyes wide and frightened. Ron felt dizzy; he wasn't ready to be a father! Most days he could barely take care of himself, let alone a kid. Before he could help himself he blurted out, "Is it mine?"

Hermione's worry gave way to anger. "You-you prat! Of course it's yours." She shouted in disbelief.

What followed was one of their more spectacular rows. Despite the harsh words exchanged, they were at least communicating. While Ron hadn't enjoyed it at the time, he could look back at the fight fondly now. Going off the potion had been difficult, but he had managed it.

Ron spent a morning trying to get Hermione's attention in their care of magical creatures class only to be stoically rebuffed. At lunch she even sat at the Slytherin table, sharing her meal with Krum. Harry tried to wave her over to the seat next to him and Ron, but she seemed as oblivious to him as she was to the angry looks being shot at her from the female Slytherins.

Ron finally managed to catch up to her outside the DA classroom following lunch, Harry was at his side. Before he could say more than the first syllable of her name she caught Harry's arm and marched their friend into the room.

All hour Ron snuck glances across the classroom where Hermione and Harry were practising. For once Harry was having an easier time with a spell than Hermione. Her incantation was spot on, but she was gripping her wand so tightly it was amazing that the wood didn't snap.

Ron sighed and turned back to Neville. Ron couldn't blame Hermione for her coldness. They had both seen too many people have their lives stolen to condone someone throwing theirs away. Ron shook his head; no, that was his Hermione, not this one.

Most of the time Ron had no trouble keeping the two separate. Their bodies, minds, and personalities were drastically different. This Hermione had never used the Cruciatus curse; in fact, she probably couldn't. On rare occasions, despite the age difference, there were times that the two's behaviour was so similar Ron would get them confused. Just for a second. When she laughed at a joke, was passionately defending house elf rights, or in this case giving him a silent treatment for doing something incredibly stupid.

He chased the thoughts away and focused on Neville. The day's lesson was the conjunctivitus curse and its counter; it was the spell Krum had used in the first challenge to injure the dragon's eyes. Rather than practice on each other Moody had acquired a bucket full of sheep's eyeballs and had given one to each pair. One performed the curse, the other the counter.

As usual, Neville was unable to get his jet of sparks anywhere near the rotting organ. It was a sharp contrast to the man Ron remembered. Ron was no slouch when it came to duelling. Seven years on the front lines of a war and Hermione as a teacher did count for something. It wasn't just luck that had pulled him through alive.

Still, Neville was in another league. Ron may have been slightly jealous of the other man's skill, but he had to admit that Neville worked hard for it. The man trained every morning and evening until he was half dead from magical exhaustion. He and Ginny had been their top fighters. Ron couldn't count the number of times Neville had saved him or Hermione. Next to Harry, Neville was the bravest man Ron had ever met. It was strange watching him struggle with something as trivial as the conjunctivitus.

"You've got to ease up on your wand. If you hold on too tight you'll never be able to aim." Ron suggested before doing the spell himself, making sure to miss the eye by a couple of inches.

Neville nodded, "Thanks, I'll try it that way." He gave Ron a tentative smile. That was one thing Nev was good for, he didn't seem to hold Ron's 'accident' with the potion against him. He just seemed happy Ron had recovered. The next spell Neville tried was actually further from the test eye. Still the colour looked better.

Ron felt the back of his neck itch and quickly looked up. Crouch Jr was watching them from across the classroom. Ron turned back to the eye ball and tried to ignore the man. He forced a light conversation with Neville about Krum's performance on the first task. He felt Crouch's eyes on him several more times that class.

Dread began to flood Ron's system. Had he accidentally tipped the death eater off? Had something he said aroused suspicion? The lesson dragged on and Ron felt his palms become sweaty. His nerves reached the point where he accidentally caused his sheep's eye to explode rather than become covered in blisters. Not the desired result, but it would still be effective in a fight.

When it was finally time to leave for divination, Ron gathered his things as quickly as he could. He was about to sprint for the door when Moody barked, "Weasley, stay after class."

Neville gave him a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry, he's not too bad."

Ron didn't respond; instead he focused on stacking his books while the class emptied. His heart was pounding in his ears, but he tried not to let his nerves show. Even if Crouch suspected something, he would almost certainly underestimate Ron when it came to a fight. That was Ron's one advantage, play the child card. To Crouch he was just a fourth year; he couldn't use the killing curse, and didn't know how to pull information from an unwilling captive.

If things came to spells, this would be no different than the missions he used to go on. A breath of calm blew through him.

This - this was familiar. The calm before a fight. Ron was still scared, terrified even, but it was more manageable. He forced himself to tuck his wand into his pocket. The walk to the front of the class was over all too soon. Crouch sized Ron up. Under Moody's deformed and wizened features there was one calculating beady eye.

He bent down and lifted the pail of sheep's eyes onto his desk. He flicked his wand and summoned those in the class to join their friends in the pail. For a moment the room was filled with a dozen bouncing balls ricocheting off the desks and ceiling as they returned to their bucket. Reaching in with his bare hand, Crouch fished one out and placed it on the desk. "Curse it."

What? Ron was confused, why would Crouch give him an excuse to pull his wand? Maybe the man didn't suspect anything. Ron took his wand out of his pocket and performed a halfhearted curse on the eye. It missed by a few inches.

Crouch was not fooled. "Potter's not here Weasley, do it right."

Ron was more confused than ever; why would he be hiding his ability from Harry? Still, not wanting to raise more suspicion, he did the spell correctly. The jet of red-purple light struck the eye and filled the retina with painful looking blisters.

Crouch nodded approvingly. "Again." Ron repeated the spell, compounding the blisters. "In my office now." He gestured for Ron to go first. Ron shuddered as he walked up the stairs at the rear of the class; he didn't like the feeling of the Death Eater at his back. This was the first time Ron had seen Crouch's office. It was filled with various dark wizard detectors. Standing near a desk was a large mirror, a foe glass. Ron doubted it was a coincidence that one of the blurry figures had a very distinctive shade of red hair. Crouch took a seat and indicated for Ron to do the same. "Tea?" Ron shook his head, who knew what could be in it. "You've been practising on your own."

Keeping his eyes down, Ron nodded. "Yer' also hiding it from your friends." It wasn't a question but Ron nodded anyway, not looking up. His mind was racing; how could he spin this? Crouch waited for a beat. When he didn't get the expected elaboration he pushed, "Why?"

Ron glanced up, before once again averting his eyes. He finally muttered the only thing he could think of: "Harry's better at everything else, I wanted something I could be best at."

Crouch's stare weighed heavily on him, "Why hide it?"

"Because I didn't want him to start practising. I want t' stay better than him." It was pathetic, it was selfish, and from the way his younger self had acted earlier in the term, it was completely in line with his character.

Crouch scoffed. "Not very Griffindor of you." Ron wasn't sure if he imagined the humour buried under the man's fake disapproval - of course a Death Eater would find something like that entertaining.

Ron shook his head. "No sir."

Clearing his throat Crouch continued, "Bit of ambition ain't a bad thing boy, but Harry's gonna need all the practice he can get in order to win. Looks like you and Granger can help him with that."

Ron stared at the floor. Nodding he said, "Yes sir, I'll help him." There was a pause and Ron asked, "May I go sir?" Moody waved him off and Ron scuttled out of the room. It wasn't until he made it to the corridor outside the divination class that he let himself collapse against the wall in relief. At least he would have something to talk to Albus about tonight, he thought as he calmed his breathing.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviews and criticisms are always enjoyed.<strong>


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